


Peregrination

by msdisdain



Series: Consequences [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Holodeck, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msdisdain/pseuds/msdisdain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to Consequences. Chakotay insists he's fully recovered - but is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written a long, long time ago, under another name.
> 
> Original Author's Note: Once again, I must acknowledge the ruthless editing and unending capacity for brainstorming of Jennifer Ferris. I doubt I would have ever finished this story if it wasn't for her willingness to listen to me complain about it, to read fourteen drafts of the same scene, and even write out dialogue that sprang to mind. Some of what you read here is hers, but in truth, she matched my voice so well I don't know if I could tell you which lines belong to her. Also a big thanks to Michele Masterson, who took a look at it when Jen and I had exhausted all possibilities, and pointed out several things that definitely needed to be done. And finally, to all those who read the stilted first fragments on my web page and asked for more--here it is. Thank you all so much for encouraging the end product. A third installment? God. Please, don't ask. This one nearly had me swearing off fanfic, it was such a bear. :-)

_peregrination \Per`e*gri*na"tion\, n. [L. peregrinatio: cf. F. p['e]r['e]grination.] A traveling from one place or state of mind to another; a wandering; sojourn in foreign countries._

 

It was sent.

It wasn't read yet, so she could still delete it from the ship's computer. He'd never know. She could just reach out her hand and--

_Damn._

_Is he sitting on top of his terminal?_ she thought irritably. She had debated for an hour whether or not to send the message, and then had hit the button by accident. Now all choices were obliterated; he had read it. She would soon get a response whether she wanted one or not, and knowing him, it would be soon.

 _Very soon,_ she thought wryly, as a chime signaled the reply's arrival. A deep breath, and then another.

"Computer, display incoming message," she said quietly.

_Holodeck two in one hour._

_Well, that's personal,_ she thought with a snort. No greeting, no closing statement? Nothing really at all, and certainly nothing she could gauge his mood by. If she hadn't known him better, she would have thought he was being deliberately vague. However, knowing her First Officer like she did, she knew he was just being quick.

Responding before she could delete it.

He knew her as well as she knew him.

One hour. And then they'd be alone.

It had been several weeks... _five weeks, three days,_ she thought absently...since they'd really been _alone_ together. Since they'd touched. Since he'd kissed her in the observation lounge. Things had been shaky for a few days after that, but luckily the only people that had known about Chakotay's resignation were the senior officers. They had spoken to Tuvok about the reinstatement first, and he had accepted it in a typically Vulcan fashion. If he had ever wanted the First Officer's position, it had never been at the expense of Chakotay. Telling the rest of the staff had been embarrassing, but Chakotay had taken most of the burden on himself by choosing to tell the story of what had happened to him.

Five weeks, three days later, they were barely steps closer to one another. They'd shared meals, but only in the mess hall; the bridge banter that had defined their command style for so long was back, but in private, they were nervous, careful. She did take great comfort in the fact that Chakotay seemed to be his old self again, for the most part. She'd catch him staring into space occasionally, and would wonder what he was thinking about. But things were good. That morning, she'd seen that they both had a free day. And felt bold.

And he had said yes, damn him.

One hour.

Hardly enough time to change her outfit six or seven times or comb her hair into a semblance or order. Certainly not enough time to bathe in near-scalding water or whip up a small feast on the replicator. She would have to prioritize. She turned to face her reflection in the mirror, one hand reaching for her hairbrush.

Five minutes to comb her hair and dress.

Three minutes to get from her quarters to the holodeck.

Fifty-two minutes to indulge in feeling slightly nauseous and pace around her quarters wondering for the hundredth time that day if she was doing the right thing.

She'd start with the hair.

* * *

 _What could it mean?_ he thought for the third time in as many minutes as he raced frantically around his quarters, shoes in one hand, the other buttoning his shirt. It had been several weeks since things had been returning to normal for them; several weeks since she had last let him hold her; several weeks since the last time his lips had touched hers...

 _Stop it,_ he commanded himself. Her invitation was probably innocently given, one friend to another. Maybe. He strode to the terminal for the sixth or seventh time.

"Computer, display last incoming message from Captain Janeway," he snapped.

 _Chakotay,_  
I haven't been to Maestro Leonardo's workshop in awhile. I was wondering if you'd still be willing to pose for me?  
Kathryn

 _Completely innocent,_ he thought, heart pounding again. The two of them, alone on the holodeck. _In an art studio,_ he reminded himself. She wanted him to model for her. _Nude?_ he thought with a grin, and the feelings that rose up in him at that made him a little dizzy. He sat down, hard, in his desk chair, and bent to pull on his socks. _You are acting like a teenager,_ he chided himself. He hadn't been this giddy since the First-Year Cadet Snowball at the Academy.

He stood up and strode with some trepidation to the mirror. He was normally not a vain man, but he needed to reassure himself once again that the genetic mutations he had undergone were completely reversed. He ran a hand through his hair, shorter than usual but coming in nicely. The experience had been a shock, and compounded by the traumas he was still dealing with. But that was over now; it was past.

He checked the chronometer and cursed silently. He'd have to run to the holodeck to get there ahead of Kathryn.

* * *

"What do you mean, take your name out of all the pools?"

"Just what I said, Tom. And do it today, please. I should have asked you weeks ago." B'Elanna reached out her hand for the lumpy green fruit Neelix was extending towards her.

"Would you like to try the new orso leaf salad, Lieutenant? One of the cooks back on Veekar showed me the secret to that dressing we had at dinner while we were there," the Talaxian said with a smile. B'Elanna considered a minute, remembering how good that salad had been, and decided to at least give Neelix's attempt a try. She nodded, taking the plate out of his hand. Paris waved off the offered salad, picking up a plate of thin blue pasta instead, and followed her to a table in the corner.

"I can't believe you're eating the tahryng pasta," B'Elanna said with a grimace, lifting a forkful of salad to her lips and chewing carefully. "Hey, this is pretty good," she said, catching Neelix's eye across the room and nodding. Looking back at Paris, she caught him staring at her. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"How can I eat when you tell me to take your name out of the bets? Why the sudden lack of interest?"

"It's not a lack of interest, Tom, it's a respect for privacy. They've always given it to us; don't you think we owe them the same?" She stabbed at her salad with a vengeance, pushing the vegetables around and managing to spear none of them. She dropped her fork to the table, raising her chin on both fists and meeting his gaze again. "I think we should leave them alone. Maybe the constant gossip the last four years has put pressure on them. Maybe it's part of what's keeping them apart."

Paris leaned in over his plate. "Sounds like you have inside information, B'Ela. Spill it."

"I don't have inside information, I'm just concerned about Chakotay. Look, will you just do it? If you want to keep it up, it's your business, but I'd like my name out of it."

"Okay, okay," he conceded, lifting both his hands. "I'll do it before lunch is over, alright?" He let out an exaggerated sigh. "The things I do for you," he said dramatically, and was rewarded by the fling of a slice of orange something across the table.

* * *

"Promptness. I like that in my First Officer," Janeway said by way of greeting as she rounded the corner and found Chakotay lounging against the holodeck doors.

"I could hardly be late when I set the time, now could I?" he replied lightly.

"Why aren't you inside?"

"It's your program." He bent down and picked up a basket that she hadn't noticed.

"What's that?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Impatience."

"That's Captain Impatience to you, thank you very much," she laughed. "Computer, holodeck program Janeway four seven alpha."

*Janeway four seven alpha is now running.*

Their eyes met for a long moment, and then Chakotay gestured for his Captain to lead the way. The doors parted and they entered daVinci's workshop, and then the doors closed.

They were alone.

Janeway had taken great care to not be completely alone with her First Officer over the past month or so since he had kissed her. _Since we kissed,_ she corrected herself. She had wanted plenty of time and space to think about what had happened to them, and he had freely given it. She had written the message on impulse, and now they were here to see what the result would be. Who would take the next step.

"This is very nice," he said, stepping into the streaming sunlight and looking out the central window. "Where's the Maestro today?"

"I didn't activate that subprogram," she said, busying herself with the sculpting tools she had last abandoned on the table three days ago. Out of the corner of an eye she watched him putter around the room, picking up a drawing for a closer look, running his fingers along the wooden banister, peering up at a hanging mobile. He was an inherently creative person, and she had known he would enjoy being here as much as she did. "He'd like to meet you," she said, and then bit off a curse. She hadn't meant to say that aloud, and the surprise that flitted across his face told her that he knew it. He stopped on the opposite side of the table, nodding thoughtfully.

"Where do you want me?" he asked suddenly.

A dozen images collided with each other in her mind, and a few of them soon had a blush creeping up her cheeks. With some effort, she focused on the surface meaning of the question and silently indicated a cushioned sofa against the wall. She was amused to see him kick off his shoes before laying back against the overstuffed pillows, crossing his hands on his stomach and turning his head to face her.

"Take a nap if you like," she said, selecting a tool.

"I didn't come here to sleep, Kathryn."

She sighed softly. "No, I suppose not." Carefully she began to work on the clay, willing the self-consciousness she felt at being watched to lift. She worked silently for several minutes before he asked:

"What made you finally decide to invite me here?" _No stalling with you, Chakotay,_ she thought, her stomach lurching. She regarded him in silence for a moment, and then a rueful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I don't suppose you'd believe it was a whim?" At the shake of his head, she muttered, "Of course not." Her hand stilled on the clay as she struggled with her thoughts and decisions. _You asked him here, Kathryn,_ she chided herself. _Tell him why._

"Kathryn?" his voice was concerned. "You don't have to answer."

He was giving her an out, as he always did. It would be all too easy to take it. She was sure he expected her to take it. That alone was enough to make her tell him, and part of her wondered if that was his plan.

"The genetic mutations," she said finally. _The protocol business,_ he thought, his heart sinking. He had read in Tuvok's report about Janeway's tirade on ship's protocol and the reprimand she had delivered to Tom and B'Elanna. She must have asked him here to tell him she had changed her mind completely.

She watched the shadow cross his face, and knew instantly what he was assuming. "No, Chakotay, you're wrong about that for once. I was angry about Tom and B'Elanna, but a lot of that was alien manipulation on all our parts, and they've behaved well since then."

"What then?"

Their eyes met for a long while, and she laid down the tool in her hand. "I always thought we would be old at the same time," she said quietly, amazed at how easy it was to say. 'Together,' was her unspoken addition that he heard loud and clear.

"As did I," he replied after a moment, his eyes warm on hers. Her mouth went dry, and she reached for the tool again.

"It seemed that perhaps I wasted time," she said, dropping her eyes back to the clay.

"None of our time has been wasted, Kathryn," he said, and something in his voice made her look back up. The warmth shining out of his gaze were enough to make her catch her breath as she watched him stand up from the couch. "It's a lovely day, my Captain, and there's an inviting looking hillside out there and a lot of sunshine. Join me for a picnic?"

* * *

"...I had never seen Phoebe so angry, Gods, Chakotay...and my sister is a notorious hothead. I thought for sure she would kill me that time."

His eyes twinkled at her over the blanket as they laughed together. "Kathryn Janeway, practical joker--who would have thought?"

Her eyes twinkled back at him. "Remember, about two years ago, someone put that Drobrian in Paris' bed?"

Chakotay did indeed, recalling with glee how the Lieutenant had summoned security only to find that the mysterious animal was a harmless domesticated pet from the planet on which they were enjoying shore leave. "Yes, that was very--no!" His eyes widened as he looked at her. "You did that?"

She grinned back at him. "His comments on the Bridge that week had been particularly grating, Commander...someone had to retaliate."

He wagged a finger at her. "That kind of behavior should have you on report with the First Officer, you know."

"I'm sure he would devise a suitable punishment."

His mouth went dry, his eyes grew darker. He saw the blush stain her cheeks, saw her chest rise in a shallow breath. Nervously, she laughed a little, and then silently gasped as he reached out and took her hand. The shiver that ran across her body was both expected and surprising. "Kathryn," he began.

"Chakotay--"

"Sshh." His fingers rubbed hypnotically across hers. "You talk too much. We talk too much--remember?"

_I've become more wordy in my association with you than I've ever been._

She recalled his words of weeks previous. Slowly, she nodded. _Careful, Kathryn..._

He raised their clasped hands and brushed a kiss over each finger, his lips feather-soft against her skin. Her eyes closed briefly at the exquisite contact, each touch of his lips sending a shiver to join the first. Imperceptibly he began to lean forward, his mouth moving towards hers, and then she too was moving, her head tilting on an angle, her eyes beginning to close again. He stopped, a fraction of an inch away from contact.

"Shouldn't Tuvok be calling now?"

She burst out laughing, seeing the dance in his eyes. He caught his breath at the freedom in the sound. "Kathryn, when you laugh, home always seems a little closer."

Abruptly the sound died on her lips, and her throat tightened. "Oh...Chakotay..."

And she kissed him.

This, their third kiss, was full of the joy of discovery and the playfulness of longtime friends. It was a tender, gentle thing, lips only, and their free hands curved around each other's neck as if to prolong the moment. When they separated, Chakotay pulled her into his lap, and they sat that way for a long while: his cheek resting on her head, her left arm around his waist lightly, and their hands still clasped.

"What is this?" Janeway asked minutes later, as his free hand stroked the ends of her hair.

"I miss it," he said.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Your hair."

She smiled a little. "It was just too much anymore...time for a change."

"And you look lovely...as always...but I do miss it."

The wistfulness in his voice made her raise her head, and her throat tightened again at the look on his face. She swallowed, thinking about what she had done the day she cut it, and made yet another decision. "I saved you a bit," she said quietly. At his look of stunned amazement, she went on, "I couldn't help but notice your thing for my hair, Chakotay."

"I know it seems strange--"

"It doesn't. Touching, and beautiful, but not strange. I braided some of it for you before I had it cut off. I thought I might have an opportunity to give it to you someday, if you wanted it."

"I want it." The ferocity in his voice made her smile. She reached up and stroked his cheek with one hand.

"I'll get it for you later," she replied. "But you haven't answered my other question."

"I know I haven't," he said slowly. "Do we have to speculate right now? I'd ask you a favor--just let it be for awhile. We still have many a year ahead of us, Kathryn. I'd like you to take a few walks with me, and see where we end up."

"Fruitful journeys."

"Always." He stood up and extended his hands to her. She took them, and he pulled her up and into his embrace. "All of my journeys with you have been good ones thus far. This is just another road we've found along the way."

"Well, Commander, right now I think this road leads to the mess hall."

"You're still hungry after all that food we ate?"

She snorted, pulling free of him and tugging on the blanket, and laughing as he struggled to keep his balance and step off of it. "Fruit and cheese does not dinner make, Chakotay, and it _was_ three hours ago. If you don't want to join me for dinner..."

"Shut up, Kathryn. I'm coming."

* * *

"Ensign Kim."

"Huh?" Harry jerked his head back around to meet Seven's gaze. "Yes?"

"Do you typically spend your time in the mess hall staring at others rather than eating?"

"What?" He looked down at his barely touched dinner, and hurriedly picked up his fork. "No. I mean...that is...no. I don't."

Seven raised an eyebrow, and Harry privately thought she had been spending too much time with Tuvok. "That answer is at odds with your behavior this evening."

Harry hastily ate several bites of the salad before him. "I know. It's just that--well--it's Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay."

"I can see that."

"What I mean is, it's the third time this week they've had dinner together."

"I fail to see the point of this observation."

Harry sighed. Seven had come a long way in terms of her human development, but she was still parsecs behind the rest of the crew when it came to observing anything important. "Let me try to explain. The Captain and the Commander used to eat together all the time. And then they didn't for awhile. And now they are again."

Seven contemplated these words for a long moment, and then said, "Do you believe the nature of their affiliation has changed, Ensign?"

He blushed, her words bringing back an uncomfortable memory. "Yes, Seven, that's what I believe. What a lot of us believe."

"Is the frequency of their meals together the only thing you base it on?"

"Of course not. Look." He directed her gaze to the table occupied by Janeway and Chakotay on the opposite side of the room. "She's smiling, and the look on his face is what we call the 'Janeway grin'. He only smiles at her like that. He's grabbing vegetables off her plate, see? She just smacked his hand, but he's still doing it. I heard Paris call her from the Bridge a little while ago, and she told him to 'handle it'."

Seven was nodding. "I understand. You believe they are...flirting, is that the correct word?"

Harry flushed again. "That's correct. You're a quick study, Seven," he said, thinking, _too quick._

* * *

"We seem to be the focus of attention in here, Commander," Janeway chuckled, trying unsuccessfully to grab her carrot back from his plate.

"Only because you refuse to share your food with me. You're setting a poor example for the rest of the crew," he laughed, popping the carrot into his mouth.

"Me?" She wagged a finger at him. "You are a scoundrel and a thief."

"Hey, I'm a wanted man, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," she said, her tone mock-serious. "Technically I should throw you in the brig."

"Because I'm a member of the Maquis?"

"No, because you stole half my dinner! How do you think Tuvok would respond to that?"

"We could find out, Captain; is he on the Bridge?"

She grinned back at him. "No, he's off duty and preparing for his latest assignment." At Chakotay's quizzical look, she said, "Neelix has asked him to give the opening speech on the first night of Prixin next week."

"It's time for Prixin already?" A wicked smile raised the corners of his mouth a little further.

"What is that smile for?"

"Oh, nothing...I just remember a certain Starfleet officer who had a little too much fruit compote last year." Janeway managed to look offended. "I am certain you are not referring to me, Commander." She stood up, taking her tray off the table. "If you're quite finished filching my food, I believe we have some crew evaluations to work on?"

"Don't we always?" he said, unceremoniously dumping his empty plate and cup onto her tray. "My quarters or yours, Captain?"

She looked down at him, her gaze narrowed to hide the thoughts that sprung into her head at his words. _Safer on your own terms,_ Kathryn, she reminded herself. "Mine. Half an hour."

"Is that an order?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No, Commander, but I can make it one if you wish."

He got to his feet slowly. "Maybe later," he murmured for her ears only before sauntering- _yes, sauntering, damn him!_ \--out of the mess hall. She shook her head in disbelief as she headed for the recycler. Flirting. In front of the crew. _I'll have to speak to him about that,_ she thought, smiling slightly as she walked out past the curious faces.

* * *

Chakotay stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, running his hands absently through his hair. It had all grown back, he was sure. He was appropriately dressed for the occasion. He was ready early.

But something was amiss.

He pushed the sink back into its wall niche and paced away from it, trying to shake the unsettled feeling that was weighing heavily on him. Everything was fine on board the ship. The crew was safe. Neelix was back from the dead. He and Kathryn were--well, they were--progressing. Slowly. Just as he'd always hoped. He had friends--a family--a home. So why was he feeling so out of place, out of sorts?

The chime sounded softly, and he walked over and palmed open the door.

"A joyous Prixin, Commander," Janeway said as he stepped back to allow her entrance.

"Health and happiness to your family, Captain."

"I certainly hope so," she said, smiling. "We've done okay so far, don't you think?" When his smile did not reach his eyes, she looked up at him, concerned. "What is it?"

"I'm fine."

"Pull the wool over someone else's eyes, Chakotay. I know you too well. Tell me what's bothering you."

His smile was self-deprecating. "How long have you known me this well?"

She paused, and then her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "Always, it seems."

Relief of a sort intertwined with surprised joy at her words, and impulsively he reached out and pulled her into his arms. He felt her stiffen at first, and then relax, as he rubbed his chin gently on the top of her hair. Several minutes passed as he felt the edges of his melancholy blur, lured away by the faint sound of her breathing and the warmth of her skin under his hands. She held peace for him, somewhere inside her, and he sought it again, for it had been elusive lately. He had been unable to contact his spirit guide for days and he was suffering from insomnia, but here, for these few minutes, he could feel a semblance of calm.

Finally she pulled back, folding her hands in front of her, curious concern furrowing her brows together. "Tell me."

"Is that an order?"

The furrow grew deeper, and irritation flashed in her eyes. "Of course not, Chakotay. It's certainly up to you whether or not you tell me." He was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry. I'm a little punchy today. I can't stop thinking about the simulation Neelix and I ran on the holodeck." She opened her mouth to respond, and he held up a hand. "But not now, Kathryn. We have a party to get to, and I don't want to be late. Especially not this year."

"You're right," she said quietly. "There's a lot to be thankful for this year."

He reached out and stroked her cheek with a knuckle in silent appreciation for her patience and her care. She took a long breath, and he gestured for her to precede him. "Kathryn." She turned back expectantly.

"You look wonderful," he offered, picking up his jacket. Her delighted smile banished the concern to the back of her eyes.

"Couldn't let you show me up like usual, Commander."

He laughed and opened the door. Perhaps, for this night, he could hold onto peace. He was _not_ alone. He was in the arms of family.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mother's mother...father's mother...brother's second cousin's uncle...." Janeway laughed as she opened the door to her quarters. They stepped inside and she leaned against the door as it closed.

"Talaxians have a lot of relatives. The winters must be cold there..." Chakotay's smile faded as he stood, eyes absently scanning the room. Janeway touched his arm gently.

"Chakotay. What is it?"

His voice was suddenly very quiet. "He told me he didn't see any of them. Not anyone."

"Chakotay..."

He turned to Janeway. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to--make the adjustment. I think Neelix is handling this...strangely."

"I know. I wish there was a way we could help him."

"There should be." Unconsciously Chakotay's fists clenched. "There should be."

"He certainly outdid himself on this party. Maybe that was deliberate on his part," Kathryn said, her voice even. She was watching Chakotay closely, concerned.

"He's in denial."

"You can't fix it just like that," Kathryn offered, snapping her fingers.

He focused on her now. She was still leaning against the door to her quarters. His thoughts shifted. It was as if she was...waiting for something. For him? Chakotay didn't know. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, her eyes closed.

Despite the concern for Neelix that lingered, he was intrigued. Curious. He began to edge closer to where she stood. "Captain, I believe that Neelix fermented that fruit too long after all."

Her eyes flew open, and she was startled to see Chakotay standing right in front of her. "Are you implying that it's affecting my behavior?"

He shook his head once, twice, slowly. Emphatically. "I hope you don't need over-fermented fruit to get this close to me."

Janeway's head was spinning. It would be easy to blame the fruit but she knew better. The proximity of his body was throwing off her whole equilibrium. She had made choices already, choices that had surprised her. She had been taking tiny steps towards a new way of thinking, keeping him firmly in hand beside her, making sure she was in control at all times.

Maybe it was time to give him a chance at the helm. See what course he would plot.

She could always take over. Captain's prerogative.

"It depends on how close you're thinking of getting, Chakotay," she murmured, her eyes fastening to his.

This is new, he thought, trying to discern her meaning. Casually, he brought one hand up and laid it flat on the wall next to her head. "I'm not sure, actually," he said, his tone deceptively light. "I usually yield to the Captain's wishes." His other hand came up slowly, pushed a stray piece of hair off her face. "Unless she wishes me to make a suggestion.

Janeway snorted. "Since when have I ever had to wish for a suggestion from you? You usually just jump in and--"

Her next words, whatever they may have been, were lost in the kiss he brushed gently over her lips. "Well, that's one suggestion," she managed, her voice failing.

"Do you want another?" His voice was low, a hint of laughter warming it. He watched her carefully, seeing the indecision war with the desire he could tell was brewing beneath the surface. Slowly, he leaned into her again, giving her the chance to pull away.

By way of answer, she slid her hands around his back and pulled him flat against her. The kiss that ensued was considerably less gentle and much more animated than the previous one. When Janeway finally pulled back, they were breathing hard, and the look on her face was difficult to read. She brushed the back of his neck with her fingers softly before stepping away from him and walking to the replicator, willing her heart to slow. Easy, Kathryn, you still don't know what you're doing here...

"Something to drink, Chakotay?"

She didn't revert to his title. That was a good sign. He watched her through guarded eyes, trusting her now to feel her way forward in a manner she could deal with rationally and emotionally and believing that the outcome would be the one he hoped for. They were nearly sixty years from home. He could afford to be patient with her still. As long as she needed.

"Whatever you're having." He walked over to the sofa, pulled off his jacket absentmindedly, and sat down. She followed him over, handing him a tall glass of juice and sipping from the other she held.

"It was a wonderful dinner," she said, trying to bridge the silence. "It was. It always is. But I'm still worried about Neelix." If he could get her thinking about something else, she wouldn't have a chance to realize she was uncomfortable.

Janeway curled her feet up underneath her on the cushions. "He seemed a little distracted, but that's to be expected."

"I'm not sure," he replied, his breath coming out in a sigh. "I told him to come talk to me if he needed someone to listen."

"Well, that's good, then; you're the best listener on the ship."

"Am I?" He took the glass out of her hand and placed both on the table, sitting quietly while she just looked at him.

"I've usually thought so," she whispered.

He ran a hand through his hair irritably, and felt the melancholy of earlier wrap itself around his shoulders like a mantle. "I didn't know what to say to him. We just knelt there next to his dead body, and I didn't know what to say to him."

She shifted closer to him on the sofa, taking one of his large hands in both of hers, squeezing reassuringly. "What did he say?"

"He said that the afterlife that he had always believed existed wasn't there when he died. That there was a place that the Talaxians believed you went to-the Great Forest-and everyone that ever loved you would be there waiting for you. And they weren't."

"How can he be sure? Would he necessarily remember that if it happened?"

Chakotay stood up, suddenly restless, and began to pace the length of the table and back. "I can't say for sure...I've never been dead...but if I thought I was going nowhere after this life, I know how much it would bother me. How much it would shake my faith, cause me to doubt."

Something in the tone of his voice had her reaching up to him, stopping his path across her rug. "It already has, hasn't it?"

He stared down at her for a long moment, his face stony, and then something gave within him, and he sank back down to the sofa with a slight nod. "It's hard to start doubting a lifetime of faith--but Neelix's experiences certainly have me thinking about things. It was hard--impossibly hard--to lose my family to the war, but knowing I would see them again someday has always been a comfort. I can't imagine not having that to hold on to."

She reached her left hand out, covering his as they enfolded her right. "Then don't let go, Chakotay."

The look on his face at her statement said too much and not enough all at once, and she thought that perhaps her faith was being tested as well.

Her faith in herself. Herself, and her crew...and the man who sat before her, which was probably the strongest faith of them all.

* * *

A sound brought her roughly back to awareness. She shook her head sharply, trying to shrug off the foggy mantle of sleep enough to concentrate on what it was.

A cry from the next room. Muffled. Almost a shout.

One swift movement took her off the bed and on to her feet. Quickly she crossed out of her bedroom and across her living area to the couch where Chakotay slept fitfully. They had both fallen asleep talking, and when she woke several hours ago she hadn't had the heart to disturb him. She'd simply covered him with a blanket and then gone to sleep in her bed.

He was curled on his side on the edge of the cushions, one pillow clenched to his face--the reason for the muffled sound. As she knelt down on the floor beside him, she saw his shoulders jerk, saw the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

A nightmare. She could only imagine the horrors he was living in his mind. Were they they same dreams that had been plaguing him for weeks past? The Kradin, slaughtering everyone--even the children; the Vori, capturing him and using him to suit their own purposes. Chakotay, unable to stop either. Anything that close to his own experiences with the Cardassians must have been impossible to simply put aside, especially since he still didn't know who the enemy had actually been. To be that unsure, that untrusting of his own senses and instincts--that must have been the worst part. Or were his dreams perhaps of Neelix; giving, gentle Neelix who had been filled with despair at the loss of his faith, and Chakotay, the unofficial ship's counselor, unable to find the right words to soothe. To heal. Unable, perhaps, to heal himself.

"Chakotay." She laid a hand on his arm, shook gently. "Chakotay, wake up." A second shake, a little harder. His eyes flew open, snapped to hers. She could see the wildness within them, watched him suck in a labored breath. She reached up a hand and gently stroked the side of his face. "Just a dream."

"Kathryn." Her name rasped from his throat as he struggled to sit up. "We fell asleep."

She nodded. "I thought it would be better to let you rest here. I know you're having problems sleeping--obviously." She got up from the floor to get him a glass of water and grabbed a washcloth on her way back. He was sitting up fully by then, head cradled in both hands. He took the glass she held under his face and drained nearly half of it. Reaching out, she cupped his chin in one hand and wiped his face dry with the cloth. She sat next to him as he finished the water and labored to bring his heartbeat back to a normal rate, wiping his neck with the cloth and smoothing his hair back from his face. "Want to talk about it?"

"I thought the nightmares were over--they never go away." His voice was pitched so low she had to strain to hear it, and he would not look at her. "They never go away."

She continued to run her hand across his hair softly, not noticing the muscle pulsing at the base of his neck, or the way his jaw was tightening. "Was it the same dream--as before?" He said nothing, staring down at his hands. "Do you want some more water?"

He shook his head briefly, and they sat in silence, her hand drifting over his face. After several minutes he looked over at her, a rueful smile ghosting about the corners of his mouth. "You'd be a wonderful mother," he finally said quietly.

The color drained out of her face and she froze, an image forming in her mind: her body, swollen with Chakotay's child. Sudden warmth and joy flooded into her, combined with a desire that punched its way into her awareness with a force that left her breathless. She gasped silently as her cheeks flushed hotly, and her frozen hand began to move again. Her fingers brushed his cheeks, his nose, as he stared at her, and as they lingered feather-light on his lips, his eyes slid shut. When he opened them again, the need she saw within them nearly sent her to the floor at his feet. Her own eyes closed briefly, thoughts of protocol and decorum colliding with the desires she had been fighting for weeks.

Sometimes you have to know when to give in.

Her eyes opened, and she nodded, slowly.

When his mouth covered hers, she realized that this was what she had been thinking of all night. Why else would she have worn silk to bed with her first officer sleeping in the next room? Their tongues warred feverishly as he hauled her into his lap, his hands slipping under the hem of the gown to cup her bottom firmly in both hands. Her arms twined around his neck as his fingers kneaded her flesh, rhythmically, hpynotically, curving around her, caressing, stroking. Their mouths were crushed together, bruisingly so, and later she would think they were trying to crawl into each other. Her thoughts were fragmented, the only conscious knowledge being that she had never wanted like this before. She felt the dampness flooding her thighs, felt his fingers rubbing it into her skin, edging closer and closer to its source. His erection was hard in her stomach and her hips moved unconsciously towards it as his fingers dipped into her suddenly and she was crying out, she was screaming with the pleasure and the surprise of it.

And then suddenly he was yanking the gown over her head, one strap pulling free of the cloth in the process, and he was leaning her backwards, naked, over his arm and lowering her down to the couch. His free hand skimmed down her torso, brushing the side of each breast enough to make her muscles leap, and then dipped lower, hovering between her legs. She caught her breath in anticipation, waiting for the moment of contact, and when it failed to happen, she looked up at him.

His jaw was clenched, as if he was trying to hold something inside, and his eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, passion blending pupil into iris. His gaze seared through her, thrilling her, and she marveled that she had resisted the pull of him for so long. She began to reach up for him, but his fingers slid into her, and her hands fell back even as her hips rose to meet him. His thumb brushed the hair aside, seeking the nub underneath, and she gasped as he found it. At that first sound from her, he began to move within her, his fingers thrusting gently and then faster as her breathing quickened, his thumb tracing circles around the sensitive flesh. He bent his head down, captured her mouth under his own, and she curved her hands around his neck to pull him impossibly closer as their tongues mimicked what his fingers were doing in her body. He drove on relentlessly until she cried out into his mouth, and his hands curved around her back and he cradled her as she shook with spasms even stronger than the first.

She opened her mouth to speak but he held two fingers to her lips to silence her, so she drew them inside instead, sucking gently and nibbling at the tips. A groan escaped him and she realized for the first time in many minutes that he was still fully clothed, a fact which seemed to register with him at the same time. As he began to undress, her breath caught in her throat at the beauty of him, the gold of his skin, hard muscle softening a bit around his waist, chest nearly hairless. When he turned to drop his clothes to the floor, she realized he bore an intricately inked design of intertwining circles on his right shoulder--she would remember to ask him about it, later...much later.

Neither had spoken since they began, and she suspected her voice would strangle in her throat were she to try, but she was surprised at his silence. He had barely made a single noise, touching and caressing her with a tenderness that teetered precariously on the verge of becoming roughness. He was holding back from her, restraining himself, and she was suddenly frantic to see the passion he displayed in their arguments and in his convictions played out against the backdrop of her skin. So when he stood finally and moved to pull her up with him, she sat up and curved her hands around his bottom to move him closer to her. Finally, a harsh gasp escaped his lips as her tongue darted out to taste the drop of moisture that had appeared on the tip of his penis, as her small palm curved around the silken skin. He filled her hand, pulsing, and her thighs twitched in anticipation of having him inside her.

But not yet.

She could feel the tension under her hands as he fought to maintain control, but she was not willing to let him keep it. She licked and nibbled her way down the underside of the shaft, one hand stroking the top, the other reaching behind his balls and pressing down on the sensitive spot she knew was there. His breathing grew ragged above her and she reveled in the sound, moving back up slightly and taking the tip of him between her lips. Her tongue circled the head lazily, and she felt his hands thread into her hair. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she began to move her head up and down, taking him in a little at a time, feeling him shudder before her, feeling him swell in her mouth, tasting salt, tasting silk. His hands pulled roughly, almost painfully through her hair, and she knew he was ready. He had passed the point of restraint. She would return to finish this later, after she had tasted the wildness of his eyes.

Her throat relaxed and she let him slide out of her mouth, grabbing his hands and pulling, hard, until he fell to the floor with her. She kissed him, hard, her tongue tangling with his, her arms tightening around him. She would no longer have to urge him; she could see in his eyes that he wanted her, needed her, the way she had imagined it. That she had pushed him, just far enough. His hands were rough on her skin, tight around her upper arms as he rolled them both to the side and began to take possession of her, thumbs rubbing her nipples into hard nubs, fingers teasing between her legs until both of them were slick with her juices, mouth making love to her mouth until her head was spinning wildly. She reached for him and he pinned her arms above her head with one large hand, the other relentlessly stroking her body. Would you serve under me? The memory slid through her mind, and she reveled in the words. This was the Maquis, the angry warrior, who had put away a large part of himself to become her first officer. Seeing him this way now, she knew she would never be content to have him hide it again. Hide himself. Not with her. Not when she had tasted it once.

And then, at last, she was on her back and he was above her, driving into her with one fierce thrust that opened her all the way around him, and she was marveling at the size and power and feel of him. And then he began to move. A sound escaped from his throat, a low growl she could barely hear, and her lips curved into a possessive smile.

The coupling she had dreamed of. The passion she knew sang in his veins. It now sang in hers as he captured her eyes with his, his gaze forbidding her to look away. Her arms reached up, her hands roaming ceaselessly on his back, her fingernails marring his skin as he held himself just above her, his hips moving into a steadier, more frantic rhythm. She could feel them shift, felt their bodies moving, reaching her hands up and bracing herself against the couch as her head threatened to slam into it, heard something--she wasn't sure what, and didn't care--crash to the floor. Her leg scraped against the table and her mind registered pain somewhere, but it didn't matter. The moment when she would have worried that someone in the corridor would hear had been and gone, and she could only think about the tightening within her, the way her stomach muscles were clenching harder and harder as the rush built in her ears. The way they were moving together as one body, the sound of flesh against flesh, his eyes locked to hers.

He shouted above her, his life, his love pumping into her even as she cried out beneath him, knowing that they were joined forever now. There would be no turning back from this union. It was irrevocable.

. . .

He had been frantic with need for her. It was as if, the wall between them removed, torn away in his haste, he could no longer restrain anything. One small corner of his mind had pleaded: go slower, gentler...but he was caught in a vortex. The point where he might have listened to that voice was long past. He had collapsed on top of Kathryn, gasping, hearing her breath sobbing from her throat, but she reached for him and clung to him and he had found himself hardening again, so soon.

"Chakotay--" His name tore from her throat.

He pulled her up with him, grasping her in his arms, and carried her to her bed, not bothering with lights, needing her so much that any separation was a physical pain. In the shadows of her bedroom he saw the glimmering of her eyes, the way her body curved into the blankets, into darkness. She opened her mouth to speak again and he smothered her words with his lips, his tongue plundering, possessing, his hands dragging through her hair, down her neck, across her breasts. Her hands reached for him and he pushed them away and into the pillows, holding her down, the look in his eyes stilling her as much as his hands. Her lashes were heavy on her cheeks, her breath came raggedly, as he lay half on top of her, his penis prodding her stomach. He tilted his head, running his tongue up the side of her neck and back. Watching the muscles tense under her skin with every pass. She was rolling beneath him, her skin rubbing against his, her face turning from side to side.

She pushed against his grip, trying to pull her hands free, and he shook his head slowly, stilling her again, slipping inches down her body until his mouth was hovering above her breasts. His tongue bathed each of her nipples in turn, and he grazed each with his teeth, gently at first, and then harder as she moaned in the back of her throat.

He shifted his weight slightly, brushing the tip of his penis just barely between her slick folds, down, and then up again. And again. Teasing, torturing them both. A desperate cry escaped her lips and part of him reveled in the sound, feeling her writhe beneath him again, knowing she was close to orgasm. Again. Already. Power surged through him and somewhere, in that distant corner of his mind, he feared it. The voice pleaded with him again to slow, to handle her more carefully, but there would be no turning back. His hands moved upward from her wrists and their fingers twined, eyes meeting in the dim light as he angled his hips and plunged into her. Another growl rumbled in his throat, low, triumphant; her moans slid into a keening cry as he pushed them both over the edge.

* * *

The starlight outside the viewport cast sharp shadows across the room as he shook before it, cold deep within a place he had hoped to never see again. He heard her shift on the bed behind him, and the wave of disgust peaked and crashed over him again. His self-loathing hung over him like a fog as the hand that held his shirt clenched into a fist around it.

Once more, he had used Kathryn to fill a void within him. He had gone to her and taken what he needed with no regard for her wants. Though he had long dreamed of the day when his body would unite with hers, the partnering had always been slow, gentle, loving. He would worship her body for hours, have her writhing beneath him, and the eventual joining would be the true expression of his love for her.

Nowhere in his fantasies had he ever taken her like an animal on the floor of her living room.

He walked out there now, pulling his shirt on over skin scratched by her nails, and the memory punched through his stomach as he took in the overturned sculpture next to the couch, the coffee cup that had shattered on the carpet, the pillows and cushions that were strewn on the floor or hanging precariously from their proper places. It looks like six Klingons had their way with her in here, he thought with a grimace, his throat tightening, jaw clenching to hold back the emotion. Not here, he commanded himself fiercely, and began to set her quarters at rights. Cushions and pillows straight, afghan neatly folded and laid over the arm, sculpture back on the table. He dumped the pieces of ceramic in the recycler and quietly ordered another cup from the replicator, placing it on the table where the other had rested earlier.

He allowed himself one last look at her, from the sanctity of the bedroom door. The pillow next to her was dented from his head, where he had slept after they had collapsed, locked together tightly. The sheet had slipped down and the shadows still wrapped around the curves of the body that he had become so intimately acquainted with that evening. His eyes closed in remembrance even as his shame grew. Bruises darkened her upper arms, and the sight had nausea welling up within him. Tears threatened for the second time in five minutes and, grabbing his jacket and comm badge off the table, he left as silently as he could.

He spent the few hours that remained before first watch failing to meditate, and frantically changing duty rosters and crew assignments.

And when Janeway awoke and reached for him, her hands met empty air.


	3. Chapter 3

Left, seven paces. Turn. Right, three paces, step up. Pick up the coffee cup. Swallow. Down. Right, six paces. Turn.

The urge to hurl something--anything--was almost uncontrollable, and it was fought down, along with the pain, curiosity, and anger that had been waging a war within her all day. First watch would be over in two minutes.

She had not seen Chakotay all day.

She had not seen Chakotay since they fell asleep on her bed in the whirling aftermath, her legs twined with his, their hands joined between the pillows, faces close enough to breathe the same air. His eyes had been the last thing she had seen as she drifted off to her most peaceful sleep in weeks.

Until she had woken to see the empty place beside her, the sheets grown cold. She had gotten out of bed, unsurprised to find herself wearing nothing, to pad out to the living room. Of course, he would be working. Finding breakfast. Maybe staring out the window. Waiting for her.

The empty room had her blood turning cold.

"Computer, locate Commander Chakotay."

*Commander Chakotay is in Engineering.*

_Engineering? Is there a problem?_

She paused a moment, wondering why he wouldn't have woken her up to tell her about the problem, and then picked up her comm badge from the table. "Janeway to Engineering."

"Torres here."

"Good morning, Lieutenant. Report."

"All systems functioning normally, Captain. We're about to start the weekly diagnostics." B'Elanna replied, glancing uncomfortably over to the corner of her office where Chakotay sat.

Janeway froze in the middle of the room, disbelief painted across her features.

"Captain? Is something wrong?"

"No, Lieutenant. Thank you. Janeway out."

There must be an explanation. She would simply ask him after the morning briefing to explain why he would leave her quarters, leave her, after they had made love, and go to Engineering without telling her. He would explain, and she would tell him not to do it again, so she could wake up in his arms the next time. That had been her decision as she went through her morning preparations, taking more care with her hair and makeup than she usually did, noticing with a smile that he had cleaned up the mess they had made the night before. She chuckled as she recalled the sculpture crashing to the floor, and a spear of desire thrust through her as she remembered the passion he had revealed to her. It would need to be savored again.

Yes, those had been her thoughts hours before. Hours before Chakotay had sent Harry to the meeting with a message, explaining that a crew member was having a personal crisis and he would be in conference for most of the morning. Then, just before lunch, Tuvok reported that Chakotay had called the bridge and told him there was another problem, and he might be elsewhere for the rest of the shift. All day there had been one message after another; a problem with the Doctor, a meeting with Neelix. The uneasy feeling in her stomach turned into nausea as she could no longer avoid the obvious truth: her first officer was avoiding her. *BWEE-DOOP*

"Come in," she called, turning towards the door as it opened to admit--

_B'Elanna._

"Lieutenant. What can I do for you?" she asked, stifling her irritation.

B'Elanna came forward, extending a PADD to Janeway. "Commander Chakotay's end of shift report, Captain. He asked me to deliver it. He's in--"

Janeway held up a hand, anger suddenly overflowing the pain that had twisted up within her. "Don't tell me. Conference with a crew member."

B'Elanna nodded as Janeway took the PADD, and then stood at parade rest while she read it. She knew something had happened between the Captain and the Commander, but Chakotay had been cryptic and elusive that morning and told her little. He had offered no excuse for his early morning appearance in Engineering, and only when she threatened to hurl his sorry ass into the warp core had he followed her into her cramped office. Even then, he had only told her that he and the Captain were not seeing eye to eye on something, and then he had asked her to not ask any questions but to help him fill his day so he could stay off the bridge. Concern for him and loyalty to Janeway had warred briefly before she agreed, and bringing his report up to the ready room had been the last part of their agreement.

Janeway thumbprinted the PADD and handed it back to her, her face impassive. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Please tell the Commander I appreciate him getting it to me on time despite the...problems that have plagued him since morning." A muscle leaped at the base of her jaw. "Dismissed."

"Computer, engage privacy lock," she said hoarsely as the doors closed behind B'Elanna, and she sank down on the couch, head falling into her hands. She didn't know what the hell was going on, but she knew she wasn't giving up until she got to the bottom of it.

* * *

"Damn it, Chakotay, I'm not playing this game with you again. Now open this door before I break it down!" B'Elanna's voice rang through the hallway, suddenly loud to her own ears, and she glanced around before banging on the door again. "Chakotay. Let me in." The edge in her tone grew steadily more dangerous as she lowered her hand to her comm badge. "Torres to Chakotay. I know you can hear me. Unless you want me to go get my tools and break into your damn quarters, I suggest you open this door."

Seconds later, the door slid open to reveal Chakotay, his face scowling at her. "Lieutenant, you are dangerously close to sleeping in the brig tonight. I suggest you go back--" He landed on the floor with a thump as she pushed him back into the room with both hands and then followed. "What the hell--"

"Shut up, Chakotay. This isn't ship's business, and we go back farther than your Starfleet attitude does--in this quadrant, anyway. I want some answers." She reached down and hauled him to his feet.

"I haven't heard you asking any questions, just doing a lot of shouting."

"Janeway to Chakotay."

He froze, and his throat went dry. A long moment, and then, "Chakotay here."

"Lieutenant Torres brought me your report. I'd like to...see you about it."

"I'm in a conference with Torres now, Captain," he replied with forced calm. "Could we talk about it tomorrow?"

There was a long pause from the other end of the connection. "Certainly, Commander--if that's what you need."

"Thank you, Captain. Chakotay out."

B'Elanna stood in front of him, hands on hips, and the gesture was achingly familiar. "What was that? What the hell is going on with you and Captain Janeway? What was with all the schedule switching and impromptu review sessions you had me send my crew in for today? I thought you were trying to get ahead on a few things."

"I was," he said, turning away and walking back to his desk and picking up a glass.

"I don't think so. Why did you have me take her your end of shift report?"

"I told you," he said, sipping from the glass. "I had a conference with--"

"I know, I know. Ensign Donaldson. But you know what? Tom had dinner with Elizabeth. At 1830. I took your report to the bridge at 1845, and when I called him after, he told me they had been in the mess hall for over half an hour. So either Tom, the ship's computer and I are all incapable of keeping time, or you are lying to me." She walked towards him, stopped only inches away from his chest, and took the glass out of his hand. "Spill it, old man. What happened?"

"Nothing happened, B'Elanna. Captain Janeway and I are fine."

"Well, how are you and _Kathryn_?"

Anger flared up in his eyes. "Careful. You're crossing a line you don't want to cross."

"Or is she just Janeway again--is that it?"

"B'Elanna--please--" He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, willing himself to calm down. He needed to get her out of there.

"What did she do to you?"

"Nothing."

"Chakotay, stop lying to me. What did she do?"

A laugh burst from his chest, a harsh, choking sound that he cut off. "She didn't do anything!" When she opened her mouth again, he held up a hand to silence her. "Please. I can't talk about it."

"Why won't you talk to me? Damn it, Chakotay, I'm not blind, I can see that--"

"Gods, B'Elanna, stop-- _damn it._ Let it alone!" He turned away from her, his voice ragged, and leaned both hands on the desk. "Let it alone."

"Chakotay..." her voice softened, and she stepped forward and laid her hands on his shoulders. "Tell me. Please. You're hurting. I want to help."

"B'Elanna." She flinched at the harshness of his tone. "Help me by getting the hell out of my quarters and not asking me about this again."

"I'm not going."

He shook her hands from his shoulders. "If you don't leave, I'll have to put you out."

Fire flashed in her eyes. "I am not a cat, Chakotay. I'd really like to see you--"

Her mouth snapped shut as he spun around and suddenly lunged forward, grabbing her upper arms. "Don't push me, B'Elanna!"

She stared at him in disbelief, and he looked down at his hands encircling her arms. The color drained out of his face and he let go of her abruptly, turning and walking back to the viewport.

"Go...just go, damn you..."

She stared at his back for a long moment, forcing back the hurt that shadowed her face. "Fine. Whatever you want. Excuse me--Commander."

She was gone too quickly to see him turn around, see the pain in his gaze, the defeated droop of his shoulders. Kathryn, and now B'Elanna. What the hell had he been thinking?

It was better, that no one share this with him. Less painful in the end.

He willed himself to believe that.

* * *

"A beautiful woman should not look so sad."

Janeway's head jerked up from the cradle of her arm, the paintbrush she had not used since picking it up half an hour before falling to the table. Leonardo da Vinci reached out a large, gnarled hand and pushed her hair off her face. "What troubles you, Katerina?" He searched her face for a long moment, and then sighed, pulling up a chair next to her. "It is a man--the man you have spoke to me about, though I have yet to meet him."

She nodded. "Chakotay. I'm afraid, Maestro, that you are correct."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Emotions flickered over her face in a varying display as she thought of Chakotay's behavior over the last three days--since they had made love and he had left her. He left, damn it, she thought, her throat tightening again. And then he had avoided her like she had the Phage. The second day had passed much like the first; if she appeared on the bridge, he suddenly found an excuse to leave. God only knew what Tom Paris was saying about that. When she had tried to ask him about it, he cited crew problems and overdue performance reviews, telling her he was just trying to get his job done. She had appeared in the mess hall to find him eating with Paris, Torres, and Kim on more than one occasion. These sightings were especially painful because meals had been their haven, the one and only time she would let her guard down with him in public. Now, she asked Neelix for a tray and retreated to the lonely confines of her quarters, where the sheets still smelled like him because she couldn't let go of that tactile reminder that he had been there.

Neelix.

Despair had driven him to a horrifying confrontation with Chakotay on the transporter pad. Her First Officer had arrived just in time to try and talk him out of ending his life, and with the help of Samantha Wildman, he had succeeded. Neelix seemed to be his old self again. And when she had asked Chakotay for a report, he had handed her a PADD and silentlly waited to be dismissed.

So the days passed. Now, three days later, she was learning to live with the reality of it. She had waited too long. He didn't want her. And she'd be damned if she'd live out the rest of her life mourning it. She wouldn't want him either. Eventually. It would fade. It must.

"Katerina? Have you told him how you feel?" prompted the hologram.

She nodded slowly, pictures of the two of them together, wrapped in each other, drifting through her mind. "I showed him, yes."

"And?"

"And he ran," she replied quietly, the pain twisting within her, a newly familiar feeling.

"Maybe he was afraid."

She laughed, a painful, bitter thing. "No. I was the one who was afraid. He was the strong one." Her hands roamed across the table until she found the rough, unfinished sketch of him she had drawn just a few weeks before. After that golden day they spent on the hillside. She wasn't a talented sketch artist, but she had captured something of the strength in his eyes. Unshed tears burned her eyes, stuck in her throat. "He was always the strong one, Maestro."

The hand on her shoulder was a comfort. It was the only one she had.

* * *

B'Elanna Torres stared out the window of the observation lounge, her chin cupped in one hand, an empty glass dangling forgotten from the other. It had been here, several weeks before, that she and Chakotay had sat and laughed his demons away. Here where the Captain had come in and found them together, here where apparently she and Chakotay had mended whatever problems had been between them for so long. Voyager had fairly hummed afterwards; the crew as always attuned to the relationship between their commanding officers and reveling in the happiness that was flourishing. Janeway was easier, more relaxed on the bridge; Chakotay was more open, less guarded with the crew. Funnier. She had heard Carey repeating a joke in Engineering that the Commander had told the previous night in Sandrine's, and her crew was amazed. She hadn't been. There had been quite a few nights back in the Maquis where Chakotay's jokes--sometimes funny, often horrible--had been the only thing that kept her going.

Sometimes _Chakotay_ had been the only thing that kept her going. There, and here, on Voyager. Even now that she was settled in, thinking of Voyager as her home, the crew as a family of sorts, she looked to him for strength, for a center. He had been the one true constant in her life. The brother she'd never had. He had fought beside her, challenged her, propped her up, saved her life, listened when no one else would. He needed her now, she knew he did.

It had been five nights since they had fought in his quarters, and she had hardly seen him. From what Harry had told her, he was working harder than ever. Apparently he had caught up on the crew evaluations that had been left to lag behind. He had completely restructured the crew schedules and created a new system for logging the rosters and duty assignments. Now he was creating a cross-training program to encourage people to stay on their toes and foster higher camraderie by giving the crew a respect for one another's jobs. A truly excellent idea. He had also assigned Seven, Tom, and Neelix the job of seeking out any M class planets in the areas they would be passing through in the next few weeks so that everyone could get some much needed shore leave.

But he hadn't talked to her. And, as far as she could tell, he hadn't talked to Captain Janeway. She was no closer to finding out what was wrong than she was five days before. All she knew was that once again, the Captain and Commander weren't talking. Janeway had looked haggard for a few days and had spent a lot of time in her ready room, according to the bridge crew. Chakotay had spent his shifts going over reports, either from the command chair or in his office. They spoke to each other, about the crew, about planetary data, about supplies, about ship's needs. They were unfailingly polite and apparently Janeway was full of compliments for the way he was performing his job.

But they weren't _talking_.

"There you are. Did you forget about dinner?"

She looked up to see Tom standing over her, a concerned look on his face. "I'm sorry. I did. I hope you ate without me; I'm not very hungry."

He nodded, kneeling down in front of her. "I ate with Harry. But I missed you." He reached out a hand and rubbed her cheek gently. "What's bothering you?"

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes clouded with confusion, anger, sorrow. A deep breath pulled at her chest and she let it out slowly, gathering her thoughts. "Chakotay."

"Oh--you mean whatever he's done to Captain Janeway?"

B'Elanna reared up out of the chair, on her feet and looking down at him before he had time to blink, her eyes snapping. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Tom?"

Tom stood up, his brow crinkling in confusion. "What do you mean? Haven't you seen her the last few days, how she's been acting? She hasn't been this polite or stiff in years! Obviously she had a fight with Chakotay."

"And it's automatically Chakotay's fault? Where do you get off making that assumption?" She paced away from him and then turned back, hands balled on her hips. "He's hurting, Tom, and he certainly didn't cause himself pain. She did something to him."

He was speechless for a moment, his face painted in disbelief. "You've got to be joking, B'Ela. She's done nothing but compliment his work all week. If anyone's hurting, it's the Captain! Don't you ever look at her?"

"Of course I look at her! She's been shoving him away for years. If she's complimenting him now, she's probably trying to make it easier for him--like she could!" She ran a hand around the side of her neck and back, unable to keep still. "Anyway, why are you defending her now? You've always agreed that they should be together."

"Not if he's going to hurt her!"

B'Elanna sliced a hand through the air in frustration. "He didn't hurt her! _She_ hurt _him_! You'd see that if you could get over this mother complex you have about her and view the situation clearly for five seconds."

"What?" Tom walked across the room and wagged a finger in her face. "Mother complex? That's pretty funny coming from someone who's got Chakotay on a pedestal so high I'm surprised he can come down to piss, B'Elanna. I don't think I'm the one with the clouded vision here."

B'Elanna reached out and grabbed the finger dangling in front of her eyes, pushing it down and away with enough force to make him stumble. "You don't have any idea what the hell you're talking about, Paris. You think Janeway can do no wrong, but when Chakotay's concerned, she can't do right!"

"If anyone doesn't know what they're talking about, it's you! Do you even hear the things you're saying? He's not a goddamn saint, B'Elanna!"

"Neither is your precious Captain!" At that Tom turned and walked away, getting halfway to the door before she called out, "Oh, that's typical, how predictable! Go ahead and leave! I'll still be right!"

He stopped, not bothering to look back over his shoulder. "Get hold of yourself, Torres. I'm leaving because I know _I'm_ right and I don't want to have to rub your nose in it!" He stalked off and the doors closed behind him.

B'Elanna raised her fists to her mouth and clamped them together, fighting down the urge to scream. He'd be back when he realized he owed her an apology. A huge one.

* * *

She couldn't fault him for the way he was performing his job. She'd never seen him perform at such an exemplary level as he had the last three weeks. Who knew that Ayala had a passion for maps, or that Crewman McCarthy worked seven summers in the kitchen of his father's restaurant? No one, until Chakotay initiated the new cross-training program, and now they had a brand new subprogram in the Astrometrics Lab and a series of interesting and palatable new menus in the mess hall. The crew were rejuvenated and newly interested, and she had been stopped many times in the corridor so that one person or another could thank her.

She couldn't fault him for his behavior on the bridge. He was courteous and professional; he laughed at Paris' jokes when it was appropriate and frowned when it was not; he sat in his chair next to hers and shared reports with her and talked about the day's happenings; he even met with her after each shift in her ready room to go over crew performances.

She couldn't fault him for his execution of crew evaluations or his writing of the weekly duty rosters. He was three months ahead of schedule.

She couldn't fault him for his interest in the day to day operations of the ship; she was always hearing of him visiting one department or another and he was assisting Neelix in the ambassadorial functions that had grown more important the last two weeks. They had passed through several systems with Class M planets and high levels of technology, and nearly all of the crew had been enjoying shore leave on one planet or another. Chakotay had helped to set up first contact with each planet, and seemed to be taking a large interest in the customs and habits of each.

No, she certainly couldn't fault her first officer in the performance of his job.

But damn it, she could fault him--she could fault him for getting her to fall in love with him and then walking away.

If anyone should be commended on their performance, it should be her.

In the four weeks and one day--twenty nine days--since she had woken up to an empty bed, she had given the performance of a lifetime. The resolutions she had made in Maestro Leonardo's workshop were broken. She had vowed that she wouldn't want him, she wouldn't think about him, she wouldn't hurt over him. In the last twenty-nine days she had wanted, thought, and hurt more than she had ever dreamed possible. Each passing day served to show her she had been right in the first place: it was not possible for she and Chakotay to have a relationship and keep the ship healthy. There were too many factors in play. Too much to consider.

_He didn't love me,_ she thought for the hundredth time. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. He had loved her. Hands clasped over a table in her memory. She watched him weeping over her still body; saw him laughing at her, with her; saw him handing her flowers and running into her ready room with his medicine bundle. She felt him above her, inside her, and knew he was there still. Inside her. So deep she feared she would never be the same again, and she had to be, if she were to do right by her crew. They deserved the best she could give them. They deserved better than a Captain who spent all of her off-hours and part of her on-hours wondering why her first officer had left her bed without a word. And worrying about him, despite her best efforts not to.

He had so pointedly avoided her, so obviously rebuffed her attempts to talk about it, that her pride wouldn't allow her to try again. She saw the looks exchanged between Paris and Kim, knew the crew was probably gossiping again. They would be no matter what the situation was. So she lifted her chin and gave the performance of a lifetime: she sat in the command chair, looked over at Chakotay, and pretended she didn't love him.

She wondered how long it would be before she cracked under the pressure.


	4. Chapter 4

"The Doctor to Commander Chakotay."

"Chakotay here."

"May I have a few moments of your time, Commander, if you're not busy?"

"Certainly. I'll meet you in sickbay." Chakotay turned on his heel and walked back into the turbolift he had just exited.

"Actually, I'm in the Da Vinci simulation. Could you meet me in holodeck two?"

The Da Vinci simulation.

_Kathryn, tongue-tied and unsure, shaping his figure as he watched her from the sofa; Kathryn, funny and teasing, her hair shining under the sun as they lay on the hill; Kathryn, her body, her lips warm beneath his as they..._

"Commander?"

He was jerked out of memory and back to the reality of the lift by the Doctor's voice, .

"Commander--is something wrong?"

"No, Doctor," he said, pulling himself back to attention. "I'll be right there. Deck six," he said, wondering why the Doctor would ask to meet with him in the Da Vinci simulation. He supposed that Paris was in charge of sick bay, but even so, the Doctor usually requested a meeting in his office rather than elsewhere on the ship. The turbolift doors opened, and he nearly bumped into Neelix.

"I'm sorry, Commander!" the cook gasped, reaching out to steady them both. "I'm afraid I was so preoccupied with the data on this latest planet that I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking!"

"It's all right, Neelix." Chakotay moved to walk past, and then stopped, turning back to him. "A new planet? May I see the data?"

"Certainly!" The PADD was held out and Chakotay accepted it, accessing the first file and scrolling through it as Neelix continued. "It's a beauty of a place, Leriia. Their Precept is extremely friendly and very anxious for us to arrive for a visit. There's quite an extensive message in there about their beaches, and apparently the atmosphere and climate is very similar to Earth's."

Chakotay skimmed over several entries detailing the peace that had settled over Leriia nearly three hundred years prior, and mentioned it aloud.

"Oh yes, Commander. The Precept was quite eloquent about it. Apparently they won a war over three hundred years ago and have existed in peaceful cohabitation with the rest of the system ever since. It's really a lovely place, and you'll be particularly interested in the section on spirits. Apparently they believe in the spirit world much as your people do, in relation to nature and the universe and such. I found it very interesting, after all of those conversations we had last month." The Talaxian chattered on, not noticing the way Chakotay flinched at his words. "Shall I call you the next time I speak with the Precept? He's really most fascinating. I'm sure he'd enjoy speaking with you."

Chakotay nodded slowly. "Yes. And when do we reach this planet? Leriia."

"In about seventeen hours, sir. I'll keep you posted." Neelix smiled, and stepped into the turbolift. Chakotay stared at the wall for several moments, and then with a deep breath, walked with some apprehension to the holodeck doors. He palmed open the lock and entered the world of the Renaissance, never noticing B'Elanna standing in the shadows in front of holodeck one.

* * *

"You're late, Lieutenant," Janeway called back over her shoulder as the doors opened and closed, swinging her racket again and again to limber up her arm. "I was about to start playing the holocharacters." When only silence answered her, she turned around.

B'Elanna stood just inside the door, racket in hand, with an indescribable look on her face. Something was wrong. Janeway could feel it.

"What's wrong, B'Elanna?"

B'Elanna walked onto the court slowly. "I just overheard something in the corridor that might interest you, Captain."

Janeway laughed. "Not another Harry and Seven rumor, is it? I did see them--" She stopped as her mind began to identify the emotions flickering across the half-Klingon's face. Hesitation. Sorrow. Anger? Perhaps. "Something's happened. What is it?"

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

Janeway hesitated, and then nodded. B'Elanna paced away and back a few steps, tossing her racket to the ground in agitation. "Neelix and Chakotay were talking outside when I got out of the turbolift. They didn't see or hear me, and I meant to keep on walking, but I heard--" She paced away again, hands rubbing together, stalling for whatever time she could. "That Class M planet we're approaching has a climate very similar to Earth's. They have achieved a high level of technology and have been relatively peaceful for hundreds of years. They seem to be a very welcoming people with a centering foundation of faith that has been shared among them for as long as anyone can remember."

"Yes, I read the same things in Neelix's report three days ago. Chakotay has been helping him gather the data on the last several planets we've encountered--they've made a good team."

B'Elanna pursed her lips together, stopping a few feet away from her Captain. "Haven't you wondered why Chakotay has taken a sudden interest in the ambassadorial contacts? Why he's spent so much time helping Neelix gather data on these planets?"

Janeway shook her head. "No, not really--he's been taking an extra interest in quite a few areas lately. Branching out into departments he may have neglected before. His performance has been exemplary."

"I know," B'Elanna said, nodding. "He's months ahead on crew evals, and that new cross-training program he created really got everyone excited. And now he's delved into the world of ambassadorship, seeking out new worlds."

"The mission of Starfleet."

"Yes, except that isn't why he's doing it, Captain." She made a frustrated motion with her hand. "I don't know what happened with you and Chakotay on a personal level, but I know something happened. He won't tell me either," she went on, cutting off Janeway's protests. "but whatever it is has really blinded you to him the last few weeks. Can't you see what he's doing?"

"Lieutenant, thank you for your concern, but Commander Chakotay and I are--"

"He's _leaving_ , Captain, can't you see that? He's helping Neelix because he's looking for a planet to stay on!"

The ceiling of the holodeck crashed in on Janeway. It must have. It was the only explanation for the incredible weight of realized grief that struck her. She nearly staggered, her breath catching in her throat, but she held up a hand as B'Elanna moved towards her. One hand reached out to steady herself on the tennis net. "Leaving," she finally managed to say, her voice harsh and uneven. "He wouldn't--I would know--"

Shared pain washed over B'Elanna's face. "That's what I thought, too. But it's the only explanation."

Janeway's hand clenched around the net, her body suddenly icy cold, her heart pounding. He had made love to her, he had left her room, and now he was leaving. _Leaving._ A thousand things became clear in that moment; his behavior, his performance, the innovations he had introduced on the ship. He was preparing things for his departure.

Her mind stretched forward to the rest of the journey, trying to picture it without Chakotay in the next chair. The only thing she could conjure in her thoughts was blackness. He had made her a promise, damn it, he had agreed to serve beneath her--no, _with_ her. He had promised. Tears threatened and she fought them back with a rising anger. If he was leaving, he would have to tell her. Now.

"Computer," she rasped, "location of Commander Chakotay."

*Commander Chakotay is in holodeck two.*

Next door.

He had always been next door.

Her eyes met B'Elanna's for a long moment, but she found herself unable to say anything.

"Don't let him go, Captain," the lieutenant said, her face and voice impassive, her eyes pleading, frightened. Janeway could only nod before she called for the arch and exited, heading next door.

* * *

"Ah, so this is Katerina's Chakotay." A deep, resonant voice greeted Chakotay as the doors closed behind him, and he turned his head with some surprise to greet Kathryn's holographic mentor. Automatically he took the hand that was extended to him.

"Hello, Maestro da Vinci."

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. Katerina has told me many stories about you, and I have told her she should bring you with her on her visits so that I can put a face to the tales. Thankfully our friend the Doctor saw fit to bring you here, so my curiosity is stemmed for the moment."

Chakotay nodded at the Doctor as he joined them, completely clothed in costume of the period. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Actually, Commander, we both did. About Captain Janeway, and some rumors I've been hearing lately."

He froze at her name, and then forced himself to relax. "Rumors about the Captain, Doctor? Paris been working in sick bay too much?"

The Doctor didn't rise to the sarcasm as he usually would; instead, he reached up, removed his hat, and began to fiddle with it, frowning slightly. Stalling.

Da Vinci circled the two slowly, a glint of humor in his eye. "The dance begins, I see, and sooner than expected. Do you suspect you will be at odds?"

"Maestro--" the Doctor began.

"I think perhaps yes," Da Vinci went on smoothly. He stared at Chakotay, the glint in his eye hardening into steel. "A fine figure of a man. Perhaps that explains it."

Startled, Chakotay turned to him. "Explains what?"

"Katerina's late preoccupation, and the sadness she has been filled with. Unforgivable, that anyone would do this to her. I have been wondering who it was, but perhaps I should not have wondered." He waved a hand irritably when Chakotay opened his mouth. "I do not know what passed between you, sir. It is business that does not concern me. But Katerina, she concerns me. She would only say that..." he paused dramatically.

Chakotay's eyes narrowed. "She would only say that what?"

Da Vinci turned in a whirl of dark robes and strode to a long worktable, pushing through a pile of papers. He picked up a sheaf of sketches and brought them back to Chakotay. "This is the only work my lady has done here for weeks. Look on them, sir. What say you?"

Willing his fingers to be still, Chakotay took the papers, his heart tightening as he flipped through them. The drawings were all variations on a theme: the tattoo on his back. Some were just the design--large, small, sharp, blurred. Some were a figure study of an unidentified man, the perspective focusing once again on the design that Kathryn had only seen once. The night he had spent in her quarters. The night they had made love. What he had wanted to be love, he sneered inwardly. What had been more like rape.

"What did she say?" Da Vinci's voice stretched into his consciousness as if from a great distance. "She said that you ran away from her, yet she called you strong. I believe I would call you a coward."

Chakotay flinched, blood pounding in his veins, jaw clenched to hold back the tide of words threatening to break forth. The Doctor approached, taking the drawings from him and studying them intently.

"This illustrates my point rather well."

"What point?" Chakotay rasped.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and sighed, laying the drawings on the central table and clasping his hands in front of him. "If I must explain--perhaps you haven't been paying attention. I'm nearly to the point of declaring the Captain unfit for duty, and you know how well _that_ action will be received."

Chakotay's jaw dropped slightly. "Unfit? Kathryn? You can't mean that. She's been...upset. That's all. It happens in humans, Doctor, but it doesn't mean she's--"

"After four years of constant activation I would say I am the expert on humans, Commander. I am well aware of the different kinds of 'upsets' one may be prone to. I'm afraid the Captain's behavior as of late has gone well past acceptable limits. I would call this," he gestured to the pile of drawings, "an unhealthy obsession. I can't be certain what your disagreement was with the Captain, though I'd be happy to speculate based on what the crew has been saying, and I think these drawings are strong evidence pointing in one direction. Up to this point I thought I was the only member of this crew who knew you had additional body art."

At any other time, the near-hurt shadowing this last statement may have been humorous. Now Chakotay's eyes flared dangerously. "You don't know what you're talking about. Either of you," he choked out. "And you have no right to speculate! Gods. I'm arguing with--"

"The only physician on your vessel, sir, and I believe he has authority over both of you, if I understand him correctly. I would ask that you not dismiss him so lightly." Da Vinci seized Chakotay by the shoulder. "This woman loves you. You are a fool if you cannot see this."

"No." Chakotay whispered. "No." More forcefully. "She doesn't. She...sees someone who doesn't exist. Someone who she thinks--who she needs to be stronger than I can ever be."

"Well, you'd better change your mind, Commander." The Doctor folded his arms, his face implacable. "And you'd better talk to her. Because if you don't, I'm about to pull the rug out from under _both_ of you."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, could you repeat that please? And then perhaps someone could tell me what this little meeting is about?"

The three men whirled towards the door where Janeway stood, hands on her hips, confused anger flashing in her eyes.

"Certainly, Captain. I said, I'm about to pull the rug out from under both of you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Janeway strode further into the room, stopping just a few feet shy of the Doctor. He drew himself up to his full height, clearing his throat.

"It means that I have had ample reason to doubt the fitness, of both the Commander and yourself, to lead this crew in a stable manner. Unless I see vast improvement quickly, I will have no other recourse than to place Commander Tuvok in charge of Voyager."

Janeway took a very deep breath, her anger completely overshadowing the other emotions that had brought her into the room. "What exactly have I done to merit such a threat, Doctor?"

"You are not sleeping, Captain," the Doctor began firmly. "You are not eating regularly. Your moods have been erratic and undependable. You have avoided shore leave, and spent over seventy-five percent of every bridge shift in your ready room."

"Have you been _spying_ on me, Doctor?" Janeway's glare would have leveled nearly everyone on the ship. The Doctor, oblivious to the danger he would be in at the moment were he human, continued his litany, focusing on Chakotay this time.

Janeway watched the hologram, smoldering. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Was she not allowed the indulgence of emotional pain once in these many years? Was she never to have a moment's respite from the command chair?

And _what_ had he just said?

When the Doctor opened his mouth to speak again, she realized she had spoken the last thought aloud. "I said, Captain, it's not really my business whether or not your problem with the Commander has to do with sexual relations."

Janeway and Chakotay stared at him, she, bright red, he, deathly pale, as Da Vinci sputtered nearby. The Doctor turned to the artist with an apologetic look. "I am so sorry, Maestro. I should explain. I meant to say, I overheard some of the crew saying that they thought that Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay had--"

"Computer, deactivate EMH and close Da Vinci subroutine!" Chakotay choked out.

"EMH deactivated. Da Vinci subroutine closed," intoned the computer as a baffled Da Vinci and a protesting Doctor winked out.

"What the _hell_ are you doing, Commander? I wasn't finished with that conversation."

Chakotay said nothing, and she whirled to face him. He was leaning up against the table in front of the window, his back to her, his face averted. "Answer me, Chakotay. I want to know why--"

He turned to face her, and abruptly she felt her anger drain away. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken and haunted. She felt the pain that had driven her into the room surge, crest, explode within her with a force that had her knees buckling against her will. Her emotions were choking her, breath escaping in a wrenching gasp that she heard as if outside herself. She sensed Chakotay's movement before she saw it, sensed his approach, felt his arms crushing her to him. She clutched at him, unable to fully grasp that he was holding her. Tears flooded down her cheeks. He was murmuring brokenly in a voice too low for her to understand, his hands stroking her hair and back as he cradled her. Minutes passed--how many, she did not know, and still he held her. He held her until the tears stopped and the trembling began. A thousand thoughts warped through her mind, and even as she was comforted by Chakotay's embrace, she cursed herself for wanting him. For needing him. He was here, now, but he was leaving.

_Leaving._

She told herself to move, to stand, to get away from him, but even as the intention formed she tightened her grip on him, pulling his head down to hers. Their lips met, and Janeway gave herself up to the sensation, her hands caressing the back of Chakotay's neck, until suddenly he pulled away, stumbling to his feet, leaving her crumpled on the floor. She stood quickly, reaching for him, and he backed away, his hands warding her off.

"Why won't you touch me?" She didn't recognize the harshness as her own voice.

"I can't," he whispered, unable to meet her eyes. "When I touch you, I become someone I don't recognize. I'll hurt you. I'll hurt you, Kathryn."

She stared at him, trembling from somewhere deep within, trying to fathom what he was saying. "You're hurting me now, Chakotay!" She turned away, her arms hugging tight across her stomach. "I know you're leaving." She didn't have to turn to see him flinch. "Why do you keep doing that--leaving? The night we made love--"

"Love?" The word burst from him before he clamped his lips shut, and her head turned sharply at the bitterness in his voice. She watched his face blanch, harden, and when his gaze skimmed across hers, she saw the bitterness reflected. Bitterness, and...shame?

"Oh my God...that's it...that's it, isn't it...that's it..." The words slipped quietly out as she shook her head. "I'm a fool...I believed you. The angry warrior...every word. But it was only a story." She drew in an unsteady breath, each word a self-inflicted wound. "Only a story. And I believed it. I believed that you loved me."

"No!" The cry was torn from his throat, a horrible noise. "No. I do. Love you." Chakotay spoke as if the words were forced from him, each one like a dagger through him. She watched, aghast, as tears glimmered unshed in his eyes; drew in an unsteady breath as his words hung in the air between them. The first admittance, aloud, by either of them. He turned away, unable to face her any longer. "I wanted so much for you to know it, for us to share it, but I can't. I can't stay here, knowing what I'm capable of, how uncontrollable it is, how uncontrollable I am."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Janeway cried.

"I saw the bruises, Kathryn. The bruises. The broken sculpture. The state of your living room. The way I--I forced you--to kiss me, that first time. And then, that night, the way I--"

"Oh my God," Janeway breathed in horror. Slowly she moved across the room, placing her hands on his back, watching the muscles leap beneath her hands as he struggled not to react. "Chakotay. Look at me." He would not turn.

"Look at me, damn you!"

Slowly he turned to face her, his eyes reluctantly meeting hers. "Stop protecting me, Kathryn. I'm so--Gods, I am so sorry--I never wanted to hurt you. Never wanted to lose control like that."

She pulled him forcefully down to the couch. "Chakotay. Please listen to me." Her hands were on his face now, touching his cheeks and mouth. "I wanted you to. Don't you understand? I wanted to see that passion--that passion that you use when you tell me how wrong I am, or when you try to convince me of something I don't want to do. That passion that you think I don't see in your eyes."

He shook his head, not believing, and she cried out desperately. "God. God damn it! There were two people in that room. You were holding back. I wanted you to just let go, for one night--I waited so long and I didn't want to think, didn't want you to think, just wanted it to happen--"

He shoved away from the couch, pulling free of her and surging back to his feet. "Isn't this taking the good of the ship a little too far?"

She stared up at him incredulously. "What?"

"You'd say anything to keep me here, you're so wrapped up in the crew, nothing else matters. You'd go to any lengths if you thought it would do any good. Including lie. I was *there* that night. I know how it happened." He flung the words at her, despair shadowing his voice.

Impossibly, the pain grew again. "Then maybe you should go. If you think I would lie to you about something like that, because I thought it was dictated by my title, if you think I would deliberately deceive you in such a cruel, personal way--that I would _fuck_ you to accomplish it--then go. Get the hell off my ship."

Tears threatened again, and she forced them back. "Look at me, damn you! If you're going to say these things to me, you can at least look me in the eye!" She stood up and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around so quickly he stumbled. "Damn you, Chakotay. Damn you. You wanted me to love you for years. Maybe you don't want it anymore, and this is all to drive me away...well, all you had to do was tell me. If that's what you want."

She raised trembling fingers to her lips, trying to retain some control. "But don't you stand here and tell me I'm lying about what happened that night," she hissed. "I saw the way you looked at me. I'm not stupid, except maybe for waiting too long. And I knew I was taking a chance, that you might be so sick of waiting that you..." She turned away slowly. Defeated. "I wish you would just tell me that. I've worked beside you too long. The crew does need you. I need you. But I knew the consequences."

She heard him move behind her. Heard papers rustling. She turned and saw him staring at the drawings she'd made. "God," she whispered. "Doesn't that tell you something?"

"It tells me you can't stop thinking about it. That's all," he said.

She lifted her face to him. "Haven't you been listening to me? Why would I _want_ to stop thinking about it? Chakotay. Your hands on my skin..." She reached out slowly, touching his cheek, watching the pulse beat erratically in his neck. "Your breath on my face...of course I can't stop thinking about it! That's all you've left me. You left me," she snapped, her voice accusing now.

Chakotay stood, unmoving, as her words sank into him. Images of that night began to run through his head, and he could not separate them. Kathryn, writhing beneath him, her head tossed back, a smile curving her lips as he pinned her wrists above her head. Their fingers twined together on the pillow. Bruises marring her arms and hip, put there by his hands. Her hands on him, pulling him into her, harder. Faster. China crashing on the floor. Her screaming his name. Pain. A wondering joy. Passion darkening her eyes...she wanted him.

She had wanted him.

The realization crashed through him and he met her eyes in horror.

 

Janeway knew, finally, that he understood. She had finally gotten through to him. She reached for him, and he backed away. She bit back a scream, pressing her fists into her eyes. They stood there for a long moment, close together, but separate. Separate.

Finally, she lowered her hands. Her voice was calmer when she spoke, the center of the hurricane. "Computer, end program." And suddenly they were standing in the middle of the empty holodeck. "I don't want to be standing in a simulation when I tell you this. Look around us. No illusion. No lies. I love you."

Chakotay's head jerked up at her words, his eyes incredulous. "This wasn't exactly how I wanted to tell you," she said ruefully. "Now you can do what you want with that information. Throw it away. Embrace it. Or you can walk out the door and off this ship. I won't stop you."

Janeway stepped closer. "Or you could start listening, really listening, to me." He didn't move or speak, but his eyes clung to her. "I don't know exactly what the last few months have been to you. The Kraden and the Vori...Neelix. You haven't given yourself a chance to recover, to find peace...I want to help you. If you'll let me."

She felt like they were pursuing one another in an endless circle, never quite able to reach. The time had come to bring it to an end, one way or another. She straightened her shoulders. "If you really want to leave--leave me, leave Voyager, leave your family--then go, stay with the Leriians. I won't stop you. I'll tell you goodbye and I'll take my crew and we'll go on. Go on living, go on traveling. But you'll always be part of me now. Do you want my last memory of you to be rejection?"

Still, he said nothing. Her mouth twisted bitterly in fear. "Or maybe you never wanted me, Chakotay, maybe you only wanted the challenge, see if you could break my protocol, break my resolve..."

"Of course I wanted you, Kathryn," he burst out. "Gods, I wanted you. Want you." His voice faded to an anguished whisper. For the first time since entering the holodeck, she thought he was truly hearing her.

She shook her head fiercely. "How can I believe you when you've been planning to leave for a month?" He flinched visibly, and she could see that he was shaking. The terror that she was hurting more than she was helping threatened her control. "Do you honestly think I would have made it this far without you? Maybe you have that much faith in my abilities, but I sure as hell don't. I've been terrified, Chakotay. I've had doubts and fears just like everyone else. But when I lost faith I had yours to fall back on."

"That was your first mistake," he said harshly. She stepped toward him, mouth opening in protest, and he waved her quiet. "No. Don't argue with me. I cannot _be_ the person that you need. I am not that person! You have trusted me, time and again, and I have failed." His voice broke and he shuddered, his shoulders heaving in a terrible half laugh, half sob. "You need a first officer who can be everything you need, who can be strong enough to support you and still support himself. I can't."

"Yes, I do. Yes, you can," she said quietly. "You're wrong. I need you. And you need me, to support you. I haven't done that. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Kathryn, you have no--"

"Gods, Chakotay, _shut up,_ would you?" she blazed at him. He stared at her, shocked, as her words rang out in the empty room. "Why don't we have you hanged, then? Or tarred and feathered, maybe. The time for self-flagellation is over. You hurt me." Pain edged her voice. "You _hurt_ me like I never imagined you could. But you also made me a promise years ago. If you're rescinding it, I want to hear you say it."

She watched his profile, watched the tightness of his jaw and the stiffness of his neck, watched as he brought one hand up and rubbed it across his face. "No."

"No?"

"I can't. I can't say that."

A heavy relief began to rush through her, and she closed the distance between them in two steps. Gently, she reached her hands up, cupping his face between her hands, brushing moisture from his cheeks with soft fingertips. Waiting. Waiting as his eyes met hers, and she could see the grief within them. Waiting as his arms slowly came up, encircling her back. Waiting as he pulled her against him, his face thrust into her hair, her face shoved into his neck as he held her.


	5. Chapter 5

They stood there, silent, seeking strength from each other for several minutes. Finally, Chakotay spoke, and his voice was ragged. Regretful. "I'm so sorry. I'm so very s--"

"Sssh." She touched her fingers to his lips. "I know. I know you are. We'll work through this." She drew him back to her, not willing to let go until she was sure he was there. That he was staying. Quietly, hesitantly, Chakotay dipped his head and their lips met. They were both trembling. She could feel the fear, the uncertainty, as he threaded his fingers gently through her hair, brushing his lips over her face, and her hands drifted over his back.

"Torres to Janeway."

They both started as the voice rang, echoing, throughout the room. Janeway pulled back slightly, not moving away from him. "Janeway here."

"Captain, is...everything all right with the matrix in there?"

A smile quivered on her lips as she answered. "Yes, Lieutenant. There were several problems--but I think they're under control."

"Understood, Captain." The relief in B'Elanna's voice was obvious. "Torres out."

Janeway looked up at Chakotay soberly. "Tell me what you want me to do. How to help you."

"I don't think you can," he said, regret still visible on his face.

"I thought we just agreed that--"

"Kathryn." He held up a hand, and his voice was soft. "I know you want to help me. Be with me. I want it too. But you're not a counselor."

The protest faded from her face as she listened to him. "No, that's your area, usually." Then it dawned on her. "You want to talk to--"

"The Doctor. I should talk to the Doctor first." He looked away, raising one still-trembling hand and pushing it through his hair. "I've recommended it for crew members before, but I never thought--"

Janeway reached out gentle fingers and turned his face back to hers. "Most wouldn't be able to admit they needed it, Chakotay. And when you're done..." her voice faded away and her eyes dropped.

"When I'm done?" he prompted, the fear returning.

When she looked back up at him, her eyes were bright, and her face determined. Decided. "When you're done, I'll be waiting. And then neither one of us will ever have to wait again."

Chakotay reached out, pulled her back to him. Held her, a long, long moment. Janeway rubbed her cheek against his chest, listened to him breathing. The decision was made, had been made a long time ago. They were strong separately. Together, there were endless possibilities. A thousand different endings, but each with Chakotay beside her. "I wish--" Again, her voice faded off. He pulled back slightly, tipping her face up to his.

"Let me give it to you," he said, and the look in his eyes had her breath catching in her throat. A little ruefully, she shook her head.

"I know you would. But you can't give me this. I wish I could have helped you, could have seen--"

"Ssh." He was shaking his head now. "You did what you could. I wouldn't let you do more. I wasn't ready to do more." He straightened slightly, something of his old resolve centering in his gaze. "I'm ready now."

"Okay," she said, tightening her grip on him. "It's a good idea. But I have an apology to make first, and an explanation."

"Whatever you want, Kathryn."

"No." She shook her head. "Not anymore. You don't exist solely to prop me up, Chakotay. But we'll work on that," she said, and closed her eyes briefly when a smile flitted over his face. "Do you want me to send him back to sick bay?"

Chakotay shook his head. "No. To my quarters." He sighed, stroking her hair almost absently. "I have someone else I can talk to while I wait for him--I have an apology of my own to make." She nodded, understanding, and he tapped his comm badge. "Chakotay to Torres."

"Torres here."

"Are you still in the holodeck?"

"No. But I'm only a turbolift away, if you need me."

"Yes--if you can come."

"On my way."

Chakotay looked down at Janeway, dipping his head and brushing his lips across hers. "Will I see you later?" Uncertainty shadowed his eyes.

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she pulled his head back down to hers. "I'll be right next door."

"I'll bang out the secret knock when I'm done with the Doctor."

She laughed at that, and the sound had his throat tightening. He hauled her against him, his arms encircling her tightly. "Maybe you can finish your drawings."

"I want the story of that tattoo," she said, her voice muffled against his neck.

"You'll get tired of my stories," he smiled, rubbing his nose in her hair.

Janeway's eyes locked to his and she shook her head. "No. That's how it all started, isn't it?"

Two hands locked across a table in their memories, and he nodded, silently.

The doors opened and B'Elanna stepped in cautiously, her eyes taking in the bare holodeck and her commanding officers in the center of it, their arms still around one another.

"Hi," B'Elanna said, her face somber, but her eyes full of relief. "Need me to recommend a program?"

Chakotay dropped his arms, squeezing Janeway's hands as he did so. "Walk me back to my quarters, Lieutenant."

"Certainly, Commander," the half-Klingon agreed immediately. "I've got a bone or two to pick with you along the way."

"I'm sure you do," he said ruefully, walking towards her.

"Chakotay." Janeway said suddenly, her voice rough with emotion.

He turned back towards her, and their eyes met for a long moment. "I know," he said simply. "I know." He held her eyes for several seconds, and then turned and followed B'Elanna out.

Janeway stood silently in the center of the room for a long moment, hardly believing what had just happened, and afraid to give in completely to relief. Then she lifted her head, straightened her shoulders and said, "Computer, activate EMH."

The Doctor winked back into existence, his mouth still half open in protest. He looked around, startled, at the empty holodeck, and then his eyes returned to Janeway. "Did everyone the Commander can't wish out of reality get angry and go home, Captain?"

She stepped forward, spreading her hands in apology. "I'm sorry, Doctor. He's sorry. It shouldn't have been done."

"That's certainly true," the hologram sniffed. "You're lucky I can't shut you off. I'd be blissfully alone on the ship by now."

"Doctor." Janeway held up a hand. "Please. You will get all the explanations you require, if you'll allow me to apologize so you can go to Chakotay's quarters."

"What possible reason could I have for going to the Commander's quarters?"

"He wants to talk to you--actually, he needs to. He needs you, Doctor."

The hologram sniffed. "I should say so, if he wants to keep his rank on board this ship." Janeway opened her mouth in annoyance, and he held up a hand in turn. "It's all right, Captain. I can see that the possibility of losing command has no doubt passed." His gaze turned appraising, one eyebrow cocked. "The absence of the tension that has defined your neck for the last month alone tells me that...the tide has turned, perhaps."

Janeway nodded. "Turned. Yes. The Commander and I have...resolved our problems. The worst of them, anyway. The rest should be much easier, once he's spoken to you."

The Doctor looked uncomfortable. "I'm not a trained counselor, Captain."

"Surely you have subroutines; Chakotay says he's directed crew members to you before."

"He has. But those problems were usually--well, without divulging confidential information--things like homesickness, or problems adjusting in a new working environment. I have yet to deal with anything on this type of level."

Janeway walked over and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "None of us have, Doctor, Chakotay included. It's taken a great deal from him to reach the point where he can ask for this kind of help; I don't know if I could in his place. But he realizes the necessity of getting past these problems, for personal peace as well as the health of the ship, and he thinks you may be able to help him."

"I wish I shared his confidence."

It was unusual for the normally over-pompous hologram to admit to this kind of uncertainty. Janeway appreciated the admittance, and said so. "But all we can do, Doctor, is care about him. Care for him. And hope that is enough."

"Holograms do not hope, Captain." At her look of exasperation, his expression softened. "But I will endeavor to do so in this case. I will do my best for the Commander."

"I know you will, Doctor. You never do anything less." Together they turned and walked toward the holodeck doors. "He's waiting for you in his quarters. I'll have Lieutenant Paris cover sick bay and call you if there's an emergency."

"Ask him not to move my instruments around when he gets bored, please." She grinned at him and opened the door, gesturing him through. "Oh, and Captain? Have some dinner--preferably not from Mr. Neelix's current menu. The way you've been eating lately, you must have weeks of replicator credits stored up."

Janeway took the mild rebuke as it was meant, and nodded. "Take care of him, Doctor."

Her answer was a solemn nod, and the hologram turned and walked into the corridor. Janeway stared after him for a long moment and then realized that for the first time in weeks she was genuinely hungry. Suddenly checking her replicator account balance seemed like an excellent idea.

* * *

Chakotay turned, unconsciously squaring his shoulders, as the door chime sounded. "Come."

The EMH stood just outside the door to his quarters. "I'm told you wish to speak with me, Commander. May I come in, so you can confirm the validity of that statement?"

"Please come in, Doctor," Chakotay said quietly. "I appreciate your taking the time to-" He stopped suddenly.

The hologram sighed. "I hope this stilted beginning isn't respresentative of the way the conversation will go."

Chakotay shook his head. "It just struck me. Politeness. Human rituals. It just occurred to me, that they might strike you as very foolish."

"As it happens I'm a great believer in the importance of human rituals. They provide a certain...lubrication to a society that needs all the help it can get. They've also provided me with many moments of amusing and diverting observation over the years. Well. Shall I stay or go?" And, by moving slowly, and stalling a bit, the hologram didn't quite have time to make it back to the door before Chakotay stopped him.

"I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure what to say to you." Chakotay ran his hand through his hair, a bit of his frustration returning. "I think I need your help. And I don't know how to ask for it."

"I'm here, Commander. The request has already been made."

Chakotay shook his head. "Not by me, and I think that's an important difference."

"True," the Doctor agreed. "I'll wager you're not completely certain what you're asking for."

Chakotay tugged at one ear. "That too. Please. Come in and sit down."

Crossing the room, the Doctor sat at one end of the couch. He crossed his legs, one knee over the other. Then he uncrossed them. Chakotay eyed him closely. "Are you okay with this, Doctor?"

"Of course I am." His shoulders squared, his chest lifted. Then his eyes met Chakotay's, and he sank back into the couch. "Commander, I'm a medical doctor, not Sigmund Freud. No matter how much psychological information has been downloaded into my database, I'm still a hologram who has little experience in this area. I suppose we'll have to do this together." His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "I'm sure my help will be better than what you were doing on your own, considering you were about an hour away from being relieved of duty."

Chakotay sucked in his breath. An hour? Then the rest of the hologram's sentence sunk in. "Past tense, doctor?"

"Perhaps. I'm convinced that there has been...some resolution of the difficulties between you and the Captain. Nonetheless I am not at all convinced of your stability at this time."

"No." Chakotay looked away for a moment, jaw tense. "Neither am I," he admitted softly. He turned back, his eyes narrowing. "You're convinced that... what did Kathryn say to you?"

"I think I'm the one who's supposed to be asking questions. At any rate, patient confidentiality. I'm sure you understand the concept. And perhaps...will appreciate it."

Chakotay nodded slowly. "I need your help," he repeated.

"I'm a hologram, Commander. A program. Unless you turn me off again, I am at your service."

"I don't know where to start."

"Well, you could start at the beginning, or you could start with Captain Janeway. Unless they are one and the same. But I find it hard to believe that this whole month's melodrama was merely the result of a lover's quarrel."

Chakotay turned sharply at that, his eyes flashing with annoyance. The hologram stared at him calmly. Slowly, the tension in Chakotay's shoulders eased. "That won't work," he said, conversationally.

"No? Not subtle enough, then," the doctor nodded to himself. "The patient recognizes the technique. Very well, Commander. Why don't you tell me what's been bothering you so much."

"It's...hard to put into an easy phrase. Twenty words or less."

"I don't eat or sleep, Commander. Though I fear for my sick bay while under the dubious guard of Mr. Paris, I have plenty of time to listen to you."

"It's difficult to piece it together." Chakotay exhaled sharply. "What's been bothering me. *I've* been bothering me. I've been fighting-fighting-"

"Lieutenant Torres. Captain Janeway. Perhaps--" The Doctor's voice died away at Chakotay's hard look. "Yes. Perhaps not so obvious as those. Yourself, maybe?"

A quick shake of the head. "Maybe. I don't know. Ever since the Kradin...at one time I was a very angry man, Doctor."

There was an undercurrent of humor in the hologram's voice this time. "So I've heard."

"Oh, it's true. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept me going. Anger. Hate. It's an ugly thing to carry around with you. When the Kradin brought that all back...I found it very hard to put away from me. I didn't _want_ to feel that. I'd found something here on Voyager that..." Chakotay sighed unconsciously. He crossed over to the sofa, dropping into it heavily and leaning back. "It wasn't so easy though. It was as if I was...fighting in the dark. I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "I worked very hard to set aside that part of my life, and they reached into my mind and dragged it all back out again."

"A violation of memory."

Chakotay nodded. "Yes. I almost killed Tuvok. I probably did kill Kradin soldiers--I'm sure of it. It's been a long time since I've killed anything without guilt. They took that from me, gave me back a personality I thought I'd left behind in the Alpha Quadrant." He drew in a shaky breath. "And then Neelix died. That good man. For nothing. Because I wanted to prove something to Kathryn."

"You weren't the doctor that couldn't bring him back to life, Commander," the Doctor said, frowning. "I'm afraid that--honor--belongs to me."

"No. I know. It's just...I had tried so hard. And I was failing. I failed Neelix. I was failing Kathryn. I couldn't..." He shook his head as if to free himself from a vision only he could see.

"Neelix went on that mission of his own free will. And it's hardly a failure to want to succeed at the wish of your superior officer."

"It's more than that," Chakotay said, his voice nearly a whisper. "More." Then, louder, "It was...difficult...to hear Neelix talk about his afterlife experience. Or lack thereof. My people have a great belief in things of a spiritual nature."

The Doctor snorted. "I seem to recall archaic rituals taking place in my sick bay, yes."

Chakotay ignored this last comment. "I have always believed in the afterlife; that somewhere my friends and family who have passed before me are waiting to welcome me into another state of being."

"I don't believe that is in doubt."

"No. But Neelix believed the same thing."

Comprehension had the Doctor nodding. "And you believe that his experience foreshadows what will happen to you when you die."

"Perhaps." Chakotay dragged a hand over his face. "There are many explanations for what happened to Neelix when he was clinically dead. Medical explanations, psychological explanations. I've gone over them. But the doubts don't go away." He shook his head thoughtfully. "Neelix has regained his faith, has accepted what happened. It didn't even happen to me, and I can't get past it."

"Commander, I am hardly in the position to offer an opinion on the beliefs of anyone in the afterlife. Even if I were human, I would hesitate to get involved in the matter of anyone's personal beliefs. You have spent a lifetime discovering and developing your personal faith. Is one man's crisis--no matter how poignant it may seem--truly enough to make you start doubting what you have believed all your life? Or is this only a small part of a larger picture, blown larger than it might have normally been because of the rest of your recent experiences?"

Chakotay regarded the hologram a long moment, a smile ghosting about the corners of his mouth. "I thought you weren't supposed to be very good at this."

"I have an extensive database, and four years of activation. With all the observations I've done on this crew, I can hardly be expected to be anything less than an expert on human interaction and emotion." The hologram looked down at his hands briefly. "Though I will tell you that I was...unsure...of what I would say to you before I walked in here. And I don't think we're finished yet."

The Commander froze, suddenly unwilling to continue. "Captain Janeway and I didn't see eye to eye on something for a little while. It's fine now."

"Commander Chakotay." The censure in the Doctor's tone was clear. "Even if Captain Janeway had told me nothing, I would have to be a hypospray to not realize that something went on between you. Something serious."

Chakotay dragged a hand over his face and stood up. "I really would rather not say anything further."

"That is, of course, an insufficient response. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to elaborate. The command structure of this ship was in serious jeopardy. We can't have that repeated."

Chakotay flared with anger. "Ask all you want, Doctor. There are things that-"

"No."

"No? What do you mean, no?"

The hologram stood and faced the human, almost nose to nose. "Commander, I am your physician. I am the chief medical officer on this ship. I am also a hologram. You can confide in me as a friend, or a counselor; or you can provide me with data to process. But I have to ask what triggered this event. And you're going to have to give me a complete answer."

Chakotay sat back down on the sofa, jaw clenched. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, waiting for the words the Doctor needed. For words that would not betray Kathryn's trust, or make him look too much a fool.

Kathryn had talked to him, he thought. Surely there was enough to tell without telling...everything. "I don't know if you've been aware..." he said quietly. "Of the...attraction between us."

The Doctor snorted. At Chakotay's scowl, he waved a hand in apology. "I'm sorry. It's just that-I could hardly be *unaware* of it. When the two of you are in a room together the pheromone level alone --not to mention the body language--and, of course, the gossip that comes winging into sick bay on the arms of Mr. Paris." He broke off abruptly at Chakotay's exasperated breath. "Well, never mind. Let's just say that I was aware. But I've also been under the impression for some time now that...you, or she, had chosen...not to pursue the relationship."

Chakotay didn't' look at him. "Yes. Her choice. She was concerned that she would compromise her duty to this ship."

"With reason, as it turned out."

Chakotay shook his head sharply. "No. No. That wasn't...I'm going to have to explain this. Aren't I."

"I don't see how I can possibly understand you, let alone help, unless you do."

His hands were clenched now. "Yes. All right. Last month...it was after Prixin. The first night. We'd been talking in her quarters. We both fell asleep. Kathryn found a blanket and put it over me and went to bed. I woke her up, I don't know how exactly. I was having another nightmare. She came out to the living room and woke me and..." Chakotay stood and walked to the viewport, staring unseeing out at the stars.

"And?" the Doctor prompted gently.

Chakotay turned his head slightly in the direction of the doctor. "I don't know if I can make you understand this."

"Commander..." the hologram came a step nearer. "I've been programmed for psychology, and for medicine. Not for judgement. It's more important that I help you understand than formulate an opinion on what you tell me."

Chakotay sucked in a breath, shaking his head slowly. "It wasn't planned, Doctor. I had respected her decision before this. I didn't agree with her, but she had a right to feel that way. No matter how much it hurt, or how lonely I thought command was. But...that night. It was...pretty overpowering. And I.." He had to close his eyes. He had been wrong. He had been wrong. He hadn't hurt Kathryn. Not physically. "I thought I had hurt her. I was...we were...very. Unrestrained."

"I have treated crewmembers for...unrestrained...encounters before. I'm afraid I don't understand why that would be so...disturbing."

Chakotay swung around to face him. "God. Because I thought I had hurt her, Doctor. I felt like I had raped her." He choked on the word. "Not at the time. Not while we--but later. I looked at her. There were--bruises that I had--" The doctor watched as Chakotay visibly steeled himself. "That I had put there. And the next morning, the sheet had slipped down--I saw those bruises. I couldn't allow myself to lose control like that, you see. Not again." He looked back toward the viewport, not seeing it. "So I left. To not...inflict myself on her. I picked up the china we had knocked over and put the cushions back on the sofa and I left."

"Without speaking to her."

"Yes." And Chakotay closed his eyes.

"And that was... a month ago."

"More or less. Yes."

"Well," the Doctor mused, quietly. "The captain is a very...tenacious woman. And proud. So in the month since this happened, she's refused to ask you why you left."

"She tried. I avoided her. I thought she was...protecting me."

The hologram shook his head, hesitating for a moment. "All right, this is my first piece of professional advice, Commander. Don't _ever_ do that again. Ever. Not only could you both not stand the stress, but she'd probably kill you." His voice softened. "The Captain wasn't hurt, you know. At least not physically. I've had reason several times during the past month to examine her, both surreptitiously and overtly. She wasn't hurt."

Chakotay sighed, a painful exhale. "I...know. Now."

"Commander..." the Doctor moved around so he was directly in front of Chakotay, capturing his eyes. "I don't have an...easy fix for you. On any of these problems, I'm afraid. But then, I don't think you expected one." He folded his arms across his chest. "I am happy to report that I am not _at this moment_ questioning your ability to lead. And I have a prognosis of sorts, if you'd care to hear it."

Chakotay smiled for the first time, a faint challenge in his eyes. Wondering where this would lead. "Of course."

"I can tell you at least this. In a purely professional capacity. This...crisis of communication has caused you more trouble than the Kradin did. I can't help you with your faith. Or your doubts. But for your...strength, and your heart, Commander...I'd suggest you go talk to the woman next door." He held up a hand when Chakotay opened his mouth. "Please. A moment. I think you still have a lot to work through in your own mind. I'd be more than willing to continue to talk about this or anything else you think is relevant. But I think you'll take your first big step toward healing your--soul--by speaking to the Captain. Regularly." He leaned in, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "The crew approves, you know."

Chakotay chuckled a little at that. "Was the love of gossip part of your original programming, Doctor?" He smiled briefly, and then his face sobered. "I would like to continue this, I think. After."

"Well then, Commander, let me know when you're available and I'll try to fit you into my busy schedule. It's hard to leave my sick bay in the hands of Dr. Jekyll for very long." The hologram turned and walked towards the door, only to be stopped by Chakotay's voice.

"Doctor. Thank you."

The hologram nodded, a pleased smile lifting his mouth, and then was gone. Chakotay scrubbed a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. Some water, first. And then Kathryn.


	6. Epilogue

"...water bottle, blanket..." Janeway fished through the knapsack she carried, taking inventory aloud. The doors hissed open and she looked up, meeting the eyes of B'Elanna and Tom.

"Taking some shore leave, Captain?" B'Elanna asked with a knowing smile.

"The Precept was so effusive with his request, I could hardly say no." The women grinned at each other. The Leriian Precept had beamed up to Voyager the previous evening and spent two hours showing holovids of the various features of his planet while extending invitation after invitation for the crew to take some extended shore leave.

"If you'd like some company, Captain, we're going to the market and then going on a hike through the hills." The expression on Paris' face was open, genuine. Welcoming.

"I don't think so, Lieutenant. I'm afraid the Captain has other plans."

They all turned towards the door to see Chakotay, standing just inside, a knapsack slung over his shoulder. Janeway met his eyes, smiling. They'd talked for hours, two nights ago. Again, last night, they'd talked into the wee hours and fallen asleep, hands clasped, on her sofa. And yet there was still so much to say. So much to learn, so much damage to undo. so much trust to rebuild. So much... time to spend together, finally. As it should be. There hardly seemed enough hours in the day for it all. But they would have years now.

"Thank you for your invitation, Tom. Perhaps we'll meet you for dinner, later?" Janeway said.

Paris nodded as Chakotay joined the Captain on the transporter pad. They made plans to meet at a restaurant the Precept had been particularly complimentary about. "Then we can make sure you have her home at a decent hour, Commander."

The two superior officers exchanged a look of amusement at Tom's words before Janeway gestured for Parsons to activate the controls.

"You know, they could infer a lot from that little encounter back there," Chakotay said half an hour later as they wandered along the fringes of the public market.

"After dinner tonight, I think all inferences will be obsolete," replied Janeway lightly, fingering a length of dusky fabric. When a long moment of silence greeted her remark, she turned her head to look at him. The look on his face was unreadable. "I told you--no more waiting. I know it's been a strange couple of days--"

"Yes. We've hardly seen each other, between my discussions with the Doctor and your conferences with the Leriians."

She nodded. "Yes. But I'm here, Chakotay. I told you I would be. We can't go back to the way it was. But we can go forward." Her eyes were very bright as she reached for his hand, and turned back towards the table. "What do you think of this fabric?"

"You look better in blue," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Not for me," she said quietly, smiling at the compliment. He liked her in blue. She would remember. "For B'Elanna. A dress, I thought. Her birthday is in a few weeks--and I'd like to thank her."

Chakotay smiled a little, nodding. "I think it suits her."

He turned away slightly, looking out over the hills that ringed the group of stalls. It was a truly beautiful day, bright and clear, and the market was nestled in the center of a deep, grassy valley. Over the set of hills before him lay a thriving, industrial city; to the hills behind him lay a thick forest with a river cutting it in two. Tom and B'Elanna were hiking amongst the trees right now. He took a deep breath, raising his face to the sun and closing his eyes, grasping tightly of the peace that had finally begun to settle over him. It centered, he knew, on the woman who stood so close. Who had stood so close through his entire ordeal, sifted through his faults, and had not found him wanting.

"It's lovely here," Janeway said softly, coming beside him on his right. "Are you sorry?"

"Sorry?" Chakotay asked, confused, and then he realized what she meant. "That I'm not staying."

She nodded, and he thought for a few moments. "No," he finally said. "I could have lived here, but it wouldn't have been home." He reached over, slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, rubbing his nose in her hair and pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "Home is where _you_ are, Kathryn."

Janeway stood within his half-embrace for several minutes, savoring the feel of him and the warmth that spread through her at his words. The fight wasn't over, but the wait was.

She looked up at him and brushed a tiny strand of hair away from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his skin for a moment. "Come on, Commander. If you're really nice to me, I'll let you buy me lunch."

Their laughter was swallowed up in the crowd.


End file.
